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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 


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THE HOMESTEAD. — p. 15. 












SHTON 


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AND 


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ORLD 


He Lived 








BY 

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PITTSBURGH : 

■ UNITED PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PDBLICATIOS, 

M k 55 NINTH STREET. 


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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880, by 
THE ENITED PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 


FERGUSON BROS. & CO., 
PRINTERS AND ELECTROTYPERS, 
PHILADELPHIA. 


NITED 


TO 


— k-the boys and GIRLS-W — 


Presbyterian ^abbath ^chools, 

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED 


THE AUTHOR, 




PREFACE. 


'^HE incidents recorded in this little work, 
although woven and interwoven, are all 
founded on “Truth, which is stranger than fic- 
tion.'^ 


AUTHOR. 





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CONTENTS 




Chapter 

I.— THE STARTING-POINT . 

II.— HOME AND HOME INFLUENCES 

III. — NEW TRIALS 

IV. — SICKNESS AND DEATH 

V. — PURPOSES AND CROSS -PURPOSES 

VI.— SOWING THE WIND . . , , 

VII.— VACATION 

VIII.— WEDDING AND WINE 

IX.— WALKING OVER SLIPPERY PLACES 

X.— IN THE DEEP WATERS . 

XI. — RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT 

XII.— GONE UP HIGHER . . . . 

XIII. — CLOUDS THICKEN .... 

XIV. — EDUCATION COMPLETED . 

XV.— PASTORAL WORK 

XVI.— DOINGS AND SAYINGS 

XVII. — HARVEST OF DEATH . ' . 

XVIII.— HEART FAINTS AND FAILS 
XIX. — SEEDS BY THE WAYSIDE . 

XX.— THE END 


• • • 


• • • 


Page 

9 

15 

23 

35 

44 

62 

81 

84 

89 

100 

117 

138 

147 

155 

159 

166 

181 

187 

192 

205 


( 7 ) 




4 



OWARD MSHTON, 


AND 

The World He. Lived In. 


CHAPTER I. 


THE STARTING-POINT. 


“ Prepare to meet thy God.” 

“ Leaves have their time to fall, 

And flowers to wither at the north-wind’s breath, 

And stars to set — but all — 

Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Deatli ! ” 

Mrs. Hemans, 

“ Earth to earth, dust to dust, ashes to ashes.” 


"rTTITH what solemn awe did these oft-repeated 
’ ^ words drop from the trembling lips of the 
man of God, as he looked down on the cold, still form 
before him ! Among those gathered around the newly 
made grave, none felt their force more than Howard 
Ashton. 


( 9 ) 


10 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


Only yesterday the two boys — the living and the 
dead — their lessons over, walked together and talked 
of the bright future awaiting them ; but, alas ! we 
know not whither our footsteps tend. In one short 
hour the life-work of Willie Mason was done! The 
oft-told tale must be told again, of venturesome boys 
who find the still water of the- deep river so delightful 
that danger is forgotten. They go beyond their depth, 
and one of their number returns no more. The bright, 
manly boy, who went forth from his happy home so 
full of life and joy, is brought back cold and lifeless, 
to go no more out forever. Closed are the sparkling 
eyes, and stilled the winsome voice. The stricken 
household can only bow the head and be dumb before 
God ; for He hath done it. 

Howard Ashton’s first great grief came when the 
waters closed above his friend. They had known and 
loved each other from infancy. The joys of one were 
the joys of the other. The little trials and troubles of 
school-boy life were alike shared. Now one was taken, 
and the one who was left found it difficult to realize 
the great change that had taken place. He had looked 
upon the still form, cold in death, kissed the marble 
brow for the last time, and now he beholds the narrow 
coffin lowered to its last resting-place. Nothing more 
remains to be done but weep. That little mound of 


THE STARTING-POINT. 


11 


earth is all that is left to show, that another mortal 
has laid aside his earthly garments, and 

“ Gone to join the innumerable throng, 

Who worship round the great white throne.” 

What next ! what next ! This startling question 
came back to the newly-awakened boy. By the way- 
side, in the old familiar haunts, the woods echoed it — 
the very air seemed to breathe it. In the deep dark- 
ness, when sleep forsook him, the night took up the 
strain, and kept pressing home the question, What 
next ? Where would my soul be to-night had I been 
called to my account instead of Willie?” kept repeat- 
ing itself, and would not be hushed unanswered. 

For dear, lost Willie, I hope — 1 firmly believe — 
all is well ; but had death come to me so unexpectedly, 
I would have been found, like the foolish virgins, with 
my lamp untrimmed and unlighted.” 

He could not remember when he was first taught to 
repeat the Lord’s Prayer. In the days and months 
gone by, the mere repetition of this fully satisfied him ; 
but now, the awakened conscience refused all such 
worthless consolation. For the first time, he realized 
something of the presence of that invisible God who 
watches over us, even while we are forgetful of his 
being. Strange that we should admire his works, and 


12 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


not look “ from nature up to nature’s God.” Strange 
that we should enjoy his bounty, and not recognize the 
Hand that feeds us. 

Howard felt his own helplessness in the hour of his 
awakening, and 

“Angels in their songs rejoice and say, 

Behold he prays.” 

Sleepless nights and anxious days followed, but they 
brought no rest to the troubled soul. All was dark. 
How he longed to pour out his sorrow to a sympathiz- 
ing friend ! To whom should he go? He had not been 
taught to unbosom his heartaches, even in a parent’s 
willing ear. Think not his home was Christless. Like 
in many others, religion had its stated times; but it 
was thought to be too solemn, too sacred a subject 
to be made a living, talking, breathing theme, for every 
day’s life. To be sure, a family altar had been erected, 
around wliich all gathered to offer their incense morn- 
ing and evening. Sabbath, too, found each member 
of the family occupying a place in the sanctuary of 
God. The time-honored Christian duty of reciting the 
Shorter Catechism, each Lord’s-day evening, was 
adhered to rigidly. No outward form of worship was 
omitted in this Christian home. But everything was 
done in a perfunctory manner, or as so much meri- 
torious service; and, as a consequence, dear reader, this 


THE STARTING-FOINT. 


13 


boy, thirteen years of age, strange as you may think it, 
knew nothing, absolutely nothing, of the great plan 
of salvation. Nothing of the doctrines of our holy 
religion. Accustomed to hear the Word read and 
preached from day to day, until the words of our 
blessed Saviour seemed an old, familiar story. But 
now, when death stared him in the face, he knew not 
whence to turn for comfort. All the knowledge he had 
stored away, all the scripture and psalms he had com- 
mitted to memory, seemed as so many hard problems, 
too intricate to be solved. No one had ever taken him 
by the hand, and spoken to him, in tender accents, of 
the love of Jesus. Prayer had seemed only a form, 
and not the pleading of a soul to a present God. All 
past experience now looked like hollow mockery. He 
had only found out that religion was truly a living^ 
actual reality. Nothing would satisfy the hungry, 
seeking soul, but a consciousness of the love and for- 
giveness of God. All things earthly seemed dross in 
this dark hour of trial. He felt the anguish of one 
standing on a volcano, which was ready, at any mo- 
ment, to burst and bury its victim in its seething, fiery 
billows. 

Many weary days were spent seeking rest and find- 
ing none. God’s word was searched diligently, 
prayerfully — hope and fear alternately prevailing. At 


14 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


length light broke through’ the heavy mist, and day 
dawned to the new-born soul. In the light of this 
glorious morning, he could truly say, Old things 
have passed away; behold, all things have become new.’^ 
He knew now, from experience, something of the power 
of the love of that great God he had so blindly wor- 
shiped. Love seemed pervading everything — around, 
beneath, above. All nature appeared to be rejoicing 
in this new-found hope. How his heart went out in 
earnest longings to father, mother, sisters and brothers. 
That they might, each and all, feel and know this great 
peace that had come to him, now became the burden 
of his prayers. 


CHAPTER II. 


HOME AND HOME INFLUENCES. 

~IV /TANY a child goes astray, not because there is 
want of prayer or virtue at home, but sim- 
ply because home lacks sunshine. 

Perhaps, before proceeding farther, it would be well 
to introduce our readers to the family members of this 
old farm-house. Near the Ohio riv’^er, midway be- 
tween Pittsburg and Wheeling, in a fertile valley, lie 
the green meadows and the waving wheat-fields, which 
surround this homestead. 

There is little of the picturesque about the cold, bare 
house, built all around, without symmetry or conven- 
ience. Nor are its surroundings any more attractive. 
Not a flower or tree adorns the enclosure, save a half- 
withered honey-suckle, a few small bushes and three or 
four tall, unshapely trees. A rough board-fence finishes 
the picture. The observer rightly concludes, that 
beauty and harmony had no part in the preparation 
of the scene before him. 

Within doors the same lack of taste is apparent. 
From the old-fashioned, straight-backed chairs, to the 
big, lumbering kitchen-table, everything seems to have 

(15) 


16 


HOWARD ASHTON, 


been purchased with an eye to durability. From such 
surroundings, you may judge of the home-atmosphere, 
and the lives of the dwellers. 

The father, Mr. Ashton, was a selfish, stern man, 
under whose iron rule all must bend. His family 
dared not thwart his wishes. They must have no will 
but his. He was just such a man as drives the young 
away from home and heaven. A man well informed 
on a great many subjects, but with views so narrow 
and sordid, as to repel rather than attract. He had 
nursed and cherished his self-love so constantly for 
years, each year growing -more self-devoted than the 
last, that he seemed to take pleasure in his tyranny, 
and felt himself disappointed if there was no sacrifice 
he could compel some one to make for his own pleas- 
ure or convenience. He was — I was going to use the 
term Christian; I will say — a professor of Christianity, 
all law and no gospel. 

The mother was one of those meek, gentle women, 
we sometimes meet, who will submit to be trampled 
upon rather than have strife. The tender, loving 
being, this man promised to love and cherish, had, 
during these years of married life, changed from a 
light-hearted, merry, fun-loving wife, to a premature 
old woman, who seldom spoke in the presence of her 
husband, and was frightened at her own boldness, if 
she dared make a suggestion. 


HOME INFLUENCES. 


17 


Three sons and four daughters completed the house- 
hold. There was Laura, the first-born, about fifteen ; 
then came the twins, Howard and Harry, thirteen ; 
following them were Goldie, Carrie and Kate, aged, 
respectively, eleven, eight and five. Last of all was 
little Frankie, the lamb of the flock,” a sweet, lovely 
babe of six months. 

So carefully had Howard concealed his thoughts, 
during those dark days which preceded his awakening, 
that not one of this numerous household knew of the 
change which had been effected. They felt the quiet, 
gentle influence of his demeanor, so different from his 
former careless and often wayward conduct, but they 
knew nothing of the inward struggle. And now, when 
the light was beginning to shine around his path, much 
as he longed for parents and friends to rejoice with him, 
he could not take them by the hand and say, “ Come 
with me, for God has done great things for me.” 
Ashamed of Christ ! Ashamed to speak a word for 
him ! 

Communion season was approaching, and he felt it 
to be his duty to unite with the people of God. How 
many fears and doubts arose to keep him back ! Fears 
that he might partake of this holy ordinance in an 
unworthy manner, and so crucify afresh his loving 
Saviour. He feared, too, that he might not be able 
2 


18 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


to answer the questions he would be asked by tlie 
session, and so be rejected by them. Here, now, Satan, 
that arch enemy, put forth all his cunning, and sought 
to drive the young disciple to despair. He filled his 
heart with thoughts of having committed the unpar- 
donable sin. His distress was so great that he deter- 
mined to open his heart to some one — to his mother 
first, as she was his best, his most loving friend. To 
her quiet, gentle, trusting nature the anguish of her 
sensitive boy was an enigma. Never, since she could 
remember, was there a time when she did not love and 
trust her gentle Saviour. How could she understand 
and sympathize with this struggling, drowning soul ! 
Quietly she pointed him to the Cross, and told him to 
cast all his care on Jesus, but a strange feeling, she 
could not overcome, prevented her from kneeling with 
him then and there, and pouring out her soul to God, 
for light and direction, to guide this young soul, now 
struggling for life. She could not kneel and claim 
God’s promise, “ Call on me in the day of trouble, and 
I will answer thee.” His great anxiety frightened her. 
She told him to go and talk to his father, for he could 
explain things much better than she could. 

‘‘Oh, mother! I cannot talk to him. I never was 
well enough acquainted with him to talk with him,” 
he exclaimed. 


HOME INFLUENCES. 


19 


But, when day after day passed and no relief came, 
he took courage and spoke of his trouble to his father. 
He told him his desire to join the church, and his fear 
that the way would be closed against him. His father, 
in his cold, harsh way, assured him that he was entirely 
too young to connect with the church; that all his 
trouble arose from the shock, consequent on the sudden 
death of his friend, Willie Mason, 

You are too young,’' said his father. 

‘‘I am not too young to die,” replied Howard. 

“ To be sure, you are not too young to die; but, even 
if you are called to die to-morrow, you are just as safe 
out of the church as in it.” 

cannot find any promise, contained in the Bible, 
to those outside of the church.” 

We have no account of children connecting with 
the church in the whole Bible. I will not permit you 
to become a member, only to bring disgrace on the 
church of Christ.” 

Cannot the Almighty Saviour keep children from 
bringing reproach upon his name, as well as grown 
persons ? ” 

They have not the knowledge necessary to keep 
them from falling into grievous sins. I tell you, 
Howard, this must be the last of this affair ; let me 
hear no more of this nonsense. Go to work and try 


20 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


to get rid of these foolish notions. Try to do your 
duty, and when you are older I will not object to this 
step. When you arrive at years of maturity, enter the 
church, of course ; but not now.’^ 

And so he went out from the presence of his father, 
into blackness darker than before. He asked himself. 
What now is duty? Must I give up my h< pes of 
heaven ? Must I drive these serious thoughts away ? 
Ah, how vain to try ! No human efforts could quiet 
the strivings of God’s Spirit, when he was pleading for 
the soul of this dear, blood-bought mortal. AVas it 
duty to disobey Christ’s dying command? AA^as it 
duty to disobey his father’s^ express wishes? AVhat 
must he do? A few more days of unrest, and he un- 
burdened his troubled heart to his pastor, Mr. Brown. 
He gave him much good advice; tried to enlighten 
dark places, and encourage weak faith. In after-life, 
Howard looked back to this hour as one of the hap- 
piest and best spent of his whole life. AVitli the 
earnest prayer of this good man still sounding in his 
ears, he went forth stronger, more determined to sur- 
mount all things for Jesus’ sake. 

Mr. Brown endeavored to obtain the consent of his 
father to his uniting with the people of God, but to no 
purpose. He was more determined than ever, now 
that he, a minister, would dare meddle in his family 
affairs. 


HOME INFLUENCES. 


21 

Mr. Brown tried to conciliate him, telling him of 
his son’s great desire to be numbered among Christ’s 
followers ; of his knowledge being superior to that of 
most boys of his age. 

“I feel sure God will accept even children,” said 
Mr. Brown. 

‘‘No matter,” was. Mr. Ashton’s reply. “I have 
said that he is too young, and no amount of pleading 
will change my mind. I will teach Howard that my 
word is law, and that I will not tolerate his making 
family affairs public.” 

“Not public, Mr. Ashton. Howard only came to 
his pastor with his burden. For what am I here, 
except to counsel and direct my flock, more particu- 
larly the lambs.” 

“ I am capable of managing my own household, 
and I do not wish any one to dictate to me.” 

“Do not misunderstand me, my dear friend. I 
know you are better fitted to instruct your family 
than I am. Still I feel it to be my duty to try to 
have an oversight of my young people, and to speak a 
word of cheer and comfort to all troubled hearts. God 
will require their souls at my hand.” 

W ords were of no avail. To Mr. Ashton’s stubborn 
will there was no yielding. Howard was severely 
reprimanded, for daring to consult Mr. Brown without 


22 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


first obtaiDiiig permission. He was commanded never 
to mention the subject again. 

Mr. Brown, being fully aware of this injunction, 
wisely advised him to let the matter of uniting with 
the church rest for a time, but to live very near the 
Cross, and spend much time at the Throne of Grace, 
trusting Jesus to remove all difficulties out of the way. 

Howard needed not the assurance given, to convince 
him, that he would be remembered in this good man’s 
prayers. 

The communion season passed, and this troubled 
soul went away unsatisfied, feeling that he had dis- 
obeyed the Saviour’s dying command. The words of 
the text that morning were, ‘^Ye will not come to me 
that ye might have life.” Such an impression did 
these startling words make upon his mind, that a 
sleepless night followed. He felt almost ready to 
despair, when light, as from above, broke through the 
clouds, and, ere he was aware, as the day dawned, he 
fell asleep repeating the words of the Psalmist: 

“ In vain you rise ere morning break, 

And late your niglitly vigils keep, 

And bread of anxious rare partake ; 

• God gives to his beloved sleepJ^ 


CHAPTER HI. 


NEW TRIALS. 

“ Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.” 

“ Thou hast often deeply wounded 
The best feelings of my heart ; 

But an unforgiving spirit 
Cannot form of me a part.” 

OWARD applied himself, with new energy, to 



^ his studies, now that he had an aim in view. 
He had devoted his time, his talent, his all, to the 
Lord, and, even now, he looked forward to the time 
when he should proclaim ^‘the good news and glad 
tidings of salvation.” 

A prize had been offered to the best speller in the 
school — the test to be public and most thorough. 
The day long looked for arrived at last. The little 
school-house was filled with friends, who had come to 
witness the contest. Howard Ashton and Milo Lee 
were chosen captains, it being admitted that they were 
the best spellers in the school. At first there were 
thirty contestants. At the close of the first hour. 


( 23 ) 


24 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


only fifteen remained standing. One after another 
dropped off, until, at the end of the second hour, 
the captains stood alone. Milo missed a word at last, 
but, before the teacher had time to pass if, corrected 
himself. Cries of unfairness were heard on all sides, 
but Howard, remembering the golden rule, requested 
that no account be taken of the mistake. The scholars 
looked on annoyed. The teacher reluctantly consented, 
and again the contest was opened. For nearly one 
hour more the two stood, neither flagging. It seemed 
as though no word could be found, in spelling-book or 
dictionary, that was likely to end the contest. At last 
Milo hesitated, then missed a word. There was no 
use in denying this time, so he sat down very ungra- 
ciously, but the look he gave Howard was as revengeful 
as it was unkind. For another hour Howard stood 
alone. Night was fast approaching, and as there 
seemed to be no probability of Howard going down 
at all, Mr. Hope announced the contest ended, and 
Howard the successful candidate. He then proceeded 
to put the prize, an unabridged dictionary, into his 
hands. It was just the book he had so wished to pos- 
sess, but the look he received from his rival warned 
him he had lost a friend ; he would much rather have 
lost the prize. He said as much to Milo, who turned 
from him with a sneer, as though he was the injured 


NEW TRIALS. 


25 


party. Congratulations were lavished on the hero 
from all sides, but the sweetest words of praise he 
heard were from his father : 

My son, you have done well.’’ 

These were the first words of commendation he had 
ever received from him. 

It was not many days before Milo had a chance of 
wreaking his vengeance on his unsuspecting victim. 
One of the small boys, Johnnie Mathews, had a new 
knife, a present from his father, which he was showing 
to the boys. Howard had it in his hand when the bell 
rang, but Sam Lyons asked to look at it just as Howard 
was returning it to its owner. He thought no more 
about it until Johnnie asked him for it at noon. He 
told him he had given it to Sam Lyons, but Sam 
denied all knowledge of it; said he had not seen it at 
all. Upon inquiry, no one was found who had seen 
Sam have it, but all had seen Howard looking at it. 

. “ Suppose we get out a search-warrant for it,” pro- 
posed Sam. 

“All right ! ” shouted several voices. 

“A search-warrant is just the thing. We want some 
fun,” said Sam. 

“You need not examine Howard’s desk,” whispered 
Milo, just loud enough to be heard by all. “He is too 
much of a saint to steal.” 


26 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


Search was made, and, much to the surprise of all, 
the knife was found in Howard’s desk, in a box with 
his pencils. Howard was shocked, and wondered how 
it got there ; but it only needed a second thought to 
convince him that it was a plot of Milo’s to disgrace 
him. It had doubtless been placed there while he was 
reciting. He protested his innocence, and charged 
Milo and Sam with attempting to injure him. They 
denied, indignantly^ all knowledge of the affair, saying 
it was some sleight of hand Howard had learned from 
his new dictionary. 

Howard instinctively clenched his fist, and the hot 
blood mounted to his face, but just then a voice seemed 
to whisper in his ear: When ye are reviled, revile not 
again,” and he turned away, more vexed with himself 
than with his tormentors. 

The teacher, Mr. Hope, tried in vain to unravel the 
mystery. He felt convinced that Howard was innocent, 
but how could this be proved ? He thought best to wait 
a few days, to see if things would not develop more fully. 
A week passed, and Milo’s friends demanded a decision. 
Although Mr. Hope still believed Howard to be inno- 
cent, yet he could see no way of proving it, so he kindly 
requested, and even urged, the boys to drop the matter 
for the present, hoping all would be made plain very 
soon. They said ; No, no, it must be decided.” See- 


NEW TRIALS, 


27 


ing they were so determined, he called a meeting 
of the Board and put the matter into their hands. 
After carefully listening to both sides, they decided 
that Howard was not only a thief, but was trying to 
injure his schoolmates by casting the blame on them. 
After reproving him severely in the presence of the 
school, they decided that he should be deprived en- 
tirely of play-hours for a month, and if at the end of 
that time he acknowledged his fault, and publicly 
asked the pardon of those he Iiad wronged, he should 
be restored fo the good-will of the school. If these 
acknowledgments were not made, he was to be expelled 
from the school in disgrace. 

Howard’s feelings may be better imagined than 
described. To think that the boys, who he felt cer- 
tain were the authors of his trouble, should now ex- 
u kingly triumph over him, was more than he could 
endure. After the other boys had passed out, he took 
his books and was about to leave, when Mr. Hope 
stopped him with — 

*^You are not going to leave school, Howard, I 
hope?” 

cannot face my companions, after what has just 
now taken place. I feel 1 must not come here again. 
I have no friends.” 

“Do not feel so badly, my dear friend. I feel you 


28 


HOWARD ASHTON, 


are deeply wronged, but there is a just God in heaven 
who can and will deliver you. Without doubt he has a 
wise purpose in permitting you thus to suffer. Yet 
know, he never allows his children to carry burdens 
too heavy for them to bear. Do not, in this dark hour, 
forget to look to God for strength. He has said, ‘ My 
strength shall be made perfect in your weakness.’” 

‘^All this is very true, but, oh, to be called a thief 
and a liar is too bad! What could be more degrad- 
ing?” 

To he a thief and a liar would be a great deal 
worse. I feel sure all will yet be well. Do not let these 
things so distress you. Let us kneel down and com- 
mit our cause to God. He will bring us safely out of 
the storm. There is no darkness too deep for him to 
fathom.” 

Strengthened by the prayer of faith, Howard went 
home, where the word of his disgrace had preceded 
him. He went home to meet his father’s angry taunts, 
and his mother’s sad, tearful face. Even Harry said, 
Howard, why don’t you own up, and be done with 

it?” 

Harry! do you, too, believe me guilty?” 

‘‘All the evidence is against you. What else can I 
believe?” replied Harry. 

Day after day passed ; days of dreary length to poor 


NEW TRIALS. 


29 


Howard, who received no word of encouragement, 
either at home or among his companions at school. 
One morning, when he opened his dictionary, he dis- 
covered that some one had written Thief,” in large 
letters under his name. How he wished he had not 
received this book ! To it he could readily trace all 
his late difficulties. He did not mingle with the schol- 
ars, but no chance escaped without some rude boy 
reminding him of his trouble. Even those who be- 
lieved him wronged failed to cheer him now. There 
was a Friend, mighty to save, at hand. He who does 
not permit even a sparrow to fall to the ground with- 
out his notice,” did not forsake this boy in the day of 
his sore trial. 

About a week after this incident, the boys were 
engaged in a merry game of snow-ball. Howard ap- 
peared, walking rapidly toward home. 

‘‘Now for some sport, boys,” remarked Sam Lyons. 

“ Let us give the thief a cooling,” said Milo Lee. 

And, ere Howard could retrace his steps, the snow- 
balls were flying from every direction. He walked on, 
not heeding them, until one harder than snow felled 
him to the ground. A wild cheer filled the air, but 
when he did not arise, his brother, who had witnessed 
the dastardly deed, rushed forward, and when he beheld 
the pallid face, cried, “ He is dead ! You have killed 
him!” 


30 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


The boys, now thoroughly alarmed, came crowding 
around their prostrate victim. Mr. Hope arriving at 
this opportune moment, immediately examined the 
wounded boy* He found a deep gash on the right 
temple, from which the blood was streaming profusely. 
After some difficulty the flow of blood was stanched, 
and the heart began to beat feebly. The dark eyes 
opened slowly, only to close again wearily. The lips 
moved, but no sound was uttered. Then followed a 
swoon, more death-like than the first. When con- 
sciousness was again restored, Mr. Hope inquired who 
threw the stone. 

For,^^ said he, “ this cut was not made with a snow- 
ball.’’ 

After some search, a snow-ball was found, in which 
was concealed a ragged, jagged stone ; but no one knew 
who threw it. When Howard could speak, he was 
closely questioned, and he declared that he had seen 
the ball made, and that he had tried to evade it, but 
unfortunately he had not dodged” in time. How- 
ever, he would not give the name of the guilty party. 

He was carried home, and a physician summoned, 
who confirmed their fears — very little hopes. He was 
lying in a comatose condition, from which the doctor 
thought he might never awake. The night passed 
away and the morning dawned, but it brought no hope 


l^EW TRIALS. 


31 


to the anxious watcliers. The stupor had given place 
to the wildest delirium. He raved of home, school 
and friends. Sometimes he was warning sinners to re- 
pent and come to Jesus. Then he imagined himself 
lost, because he had not united with the church. 
Now he was lamenting that his friends had all for- 
saken him. Then he talked of his trouble in the school, 
and of the ball by which he had been injured, but 
even in his incoherent wanderings, he would not di- 
vulge the name of the boy who had hurled the mur- 
derous missile. 

The father now felt that he had been very unkind, 
nay, cruel, in the treatment of his son. What now 
would he not have given, to feel that he had done all 
in his power to promote his boy^s happiness ! How 
vividly he remembered his tones, while asking permis- 
sion to sit down at the Lord^s table ! 

How his heart smote him, while listening to his 
wailings for neglected duty ! This great wrong, the 
father felt, could probably never be righted. He 
prayed for the life of his son, that he might be spared 
long enough at least, to permit him to fulfill this great 
desire of his heart. This was no formal petition, but 
the crying of the heart’s desires. For the first time he 
realized something of the power of prayer. 

How did Milo Lee endure these wearisome hours? 


32 


■ HOWARD ASHTON. 


for, no doubt, the reader surmises truly, he was the 
author of the mischief. 

He was terrified, when he beheld his work. And 
when this brave boy, he had so persecuted, nobly 
shielded him, his terror turned to keen remorse. All 
that long, never-to-be-forgotten night, he tossed fever- 
ishly on his couch. When sleep did come, at length, 
it brought no rest, only dreams of the day’s sad work. 
He tried to pray, but his guilty conscience would 
not allow this sacrilege. How he despised his jeal- 
ousy, that had led to all this trouble! 

Morning came at last, and with it new trials for the 
guilty boy, for he had determined to make a full con- 
fession of his crime, no matter what the cost. The 
humiliation and anguish of his parents were too dis- 
tressing for pen to describe. 

For many days, the fever burned in the veins of the 
suffering boy. Scarcely a moment of consciousness 
was granted the weeping friends, who stood around the 
bed, watching and praying for the light of reason to 
dawn, ere the young life should go out forever. Three 
doctors said he must die; but here man’s extremity 
was God’s opportunity. A day came, the turning- 
point not only in the disease, but also in the boy’s 
whole life; The crisis was safely passed ; he would 
live; and living, he decided, then and there, to live 


NEW TRIALS. 


33 


only to Him who bought him. I give myself to thee. 
^Tis all I have to give.” Very slowly he came back to 
life. It was many weeks before Howard was able to 
join his school-mates. When he came back, teacher 
and scholars seemed to vie with each other in kind 
attentions. 

Milo bravely confessed his fault, acknowledging 
that he threw the stone, and that the knife was placed 
in the desk by Sam, at his suggestion. 

He was freely forgiven, and a warm attachment was 
formed by these boys, that grew in strength and con- 
tinued through life. Sam made no amends for the 
cruel part he had acted ; not even did he show a spirit of 
contrition for the wrong he had committed. Howard’s 
one great object, now, was to prepare himself for the 
ministry. He had much with which to contend. He 
finally obtained his father’s consent to study with Mr. 
Brown, provided he prepared his recitations at night, 
and assisted oii the farm as usual during the day. 

Thus one, two years passed away — years of hard 
study and hard toil. By performing odd jobs, as he 
had opportunity, he obtained a little money, which he 
carefully hoarded for the purpose of purchasing second- 
hand books, as he had use for them. Many times he 
felt disposed to give up all efforts to procure an educa- 
tion, and submit to the only life that seemed to open 
3 


34 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


before him, but the promise he had made on his sick- 
bed, when death seemed very near, incited him onward 
and upward. 

Seeking strength from above he went forward, and 
the way was opened before him. At the close of the 
second year he was prepared to enter the Freshman 
class ; but where was he to obtain the means to defray 
his expenses while at college? His father could have 
extended a helping hand, if he had felt disposed to do 
so, but he even refused to allow him the time necessary 
to work his own way, saying, 

“ He is a better scholar now than I am, and, as I 
intend for him to follow my own occupation, I will not 
consent to his going to college at all. I don’t believe 
in educating boys only to despise the ignorance of their 
parents. He must be contented with what schooling 
he has and settle down on the farm, where I will find 
him plenty of work.” 


CHAPTER lY. 


SICKNESS AND DEATH. 

There is no flock, however watched and tended, 
But one dead lamh is there ! 

There is no fireside, howsoe’er defended, 

But has one vacant chair ! ” 



ERY unexpectedly, death came stealing into this 


^ household one bright summer day. Little 
Carrie, after a few days of intense suffering, closed her 
short life on earth. From the first, so violent was 
the attack, that but little hope was entertained of her 
recovery. She was aware her end was near, and her 
terror was pitiable to behold. She called on father, 
mother, sisters and brothers to keep her from dying. 
In vain was she soothed with her own goodness and 
love. Child as she was, she felt that she needed some- 
thing more than her own righteousness. Howard’s con- 
science reproved him bitterly for neglecting to speak 
to this young sister while in health. Now he could not 
talk; his heart was too full. He could only pray. He 
spent much time in his closet, pleading for the life of 


( 35 ) 


36 


HOWARD ASHTON, 


the suffering child, or, this being denied, that Jesus 
would speak comforting words to her soul, ere the soul 
would be separated from the body. 

It was after all efforts, both on the part of parents 
and pastor, had failed to comfort the little sufferer, that 
the strong man, who had never asked human help 
before, sought the chamber of his son, who he felt, 
rather than knew, was constantly engaged in prayer. 
All pride and haughtiness were gone — only the father 
remained — when, laying aside all harshness, he begged 
Howard to go to Carrie, and see what he could do to 
console her. 

“ If I only could, but I cannot speak when I make 
the attempt.’^ 

‘‘Make another trial. Remember she is very near 
death. I cannot see her die in this distress. Your 
religion is happier, simpler than mine. I feel its 
power, but I cannot grasp it with my weak faith. 
Go, and may God grant that you may be enabled to 
make her darkness light.” 

Howard went down-stairs, praying for help as he 
went. When he entered the room his mother arose, 
saying : 

“We hope Howard can assist you more than the 
rest of us hav^e done.” 

Going out, she left them alone. 


SICKNESS AND DEATH. 37 

Carrie fixed her eyes, so full of troubled fear, search- 
ingly on her brother, and cried : 

Tell me how to die ! oh, tell me how to die ! Can 
you not save me from death? Are you afraid to 
die?” 

Dear little sister, I, too, have endured this anguish. 
I have passed through the deep waters; but Jesus 
found me, and took all my fears away. Now I am 
not afraid of death, for I know he lives who has said, 
‘ When thou passest through the waters, I will be with 
thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow 
thee : when thou walkest through the fire thou shalt 
not be burned ; neither shall the flame kindle upon 
thee.’ Again, ^ I will never leave thee, I will never 
forsake thee.’ Just put your trust in him, and all will 
be well. He is able, he is willing : doubt no more.” 

“ I cannot, I cannot. I do not understand. I have 
sinned so often.” 

“The precious blood of Jesus will wash all your sins 
away. Only trust him and you are safe. Believe on 
Jesus Christ.” 

“ If I only could ! but something won’t let me.” 

“Dear Carrie, do you not remember last winter, 
when you were crossing the creek on the old fopt-log, 
how you lost your balance, and came near falling in 
the water ? ” 


38 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


Oh, yes ! and how father caught me, and carried 
me across in safety ! Oh, yes ! I remember that.” 

Were you afraid father would let you fall in the 
water? ” 

Oh, no ! I knew he was strong, and able to carry 
me. I knew he would not let me fall.” 

‘^Dear sister, can you not just so trust Jesus? 
He is strong and able to carry you, just as father did. 
Just let go yourself, and cling to him as you did to 
father, and he will carry you safely across the Jordan 
of death, and place you at his right hand on high.” 

I am beginning to see : but I am acquainted with 
father and can see him, and know he is near.” 

“Not as near as Jesus is. He is here, right in this 
room, waiting for you to give yourself to him. He has 
said, ^Suffer little children to come unto me, and for- 
bid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven 
and again : ^ He taketh the lambs in his arms, and 
carrieth them in his bosom.’ ” 

“I think I see now. I am not much afraid, if he is 
here, to go along.” 

“ He is here. He hears us talking. He hears our 
prayers. You know you always pray to him.” 

“ I ^ay my prayers, but it always seemed as if I 
was saying them to some great being, away off, who 
would not hear such poor little prayers as mine.” 


SICKNESS AND DEATH. 


39 


No, dear ! he hears you and me, just as well as the 
greatest king on earth. Even our thoughts, before our 
lips frame the words, are all well known to him. Not 
only does he hear, but he answers our prayers, when- 
ever they are for our good.” 

‘‘Did you know this before?” 

“Yes, dear. I have found this all in my own 
experience.” 

“ Oh ! Howard, why did you never tell me? ” 

“Why did I not? That is the question I keep 
asking myself. Why have I let these precious years 
go by, without making known my dear Saviour’s love, 
to the little ones of my father’s house? Why have I? 
I can only plead a shameful timidity. I knew my 
duty, and did it not. May God forgive me and make 
me more faithful in the future,” 

“ I am not afraid to die now. Jesus is near. All 
is light. I am happy now. Won’t you pray for 
me?” 

Dropping on his knees, Howard poured out such 
a prayer as only a soul full of a sense of its own 
responsibility can utter. He knew he was pleading for 
one near death. He prayed that all dark things might 
be made light, and that clouds might melt away in the 
sunshine of Jesus’ love. He asked that, if possible, 
her life might be spared ; but, if it was otherwise deter- 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


40 

mined, he prayed for strength to say, Thy will, O 
God, be done.” This was the first time he had ever 
had courage to pray before any human being, but in 
his deep earnestness he forgot his fear. While he 
prayed the answer came, and the little girPs peace that 
passeth all knowledge shone in the unearthly bright- 
ness of her mild blue eyes. 

Thank God,” she said, ^Hhe darkness is all gone. 
My sufferings will be easily borne now. I am almost 
home.” 

A few minutes later, her mother, entering, saw the 
change. Kissing her, she said; 

My dear, you are feeling much better.” 

Oh, yes, mother, I am not afraid to die now. Oh ! 
mother, did you know God was so near to us, and we 
need not be afraid? Do not cry, mother; it makes me 
sad to see you weep when I am so happy 1 ” 

Her father entering, she exclaimed ; 

“Father, I am so happy now. I have learned 
Howard’s way to find God, and now I am not afraid. 
Father, God hears us when we pray, and I have 
asked him to take me in his arms and carry me up to 
heaven when I die; and he will, just as you did last 
winter, when I came near falling in the creek. Did 
you know he was so near to us all the time? How- 
ard is not afraid to die ; are you, father?” 


SICKNESS AND DEATH. 41 

am afraid Jesus is not as near to me as he is to 
Howard and you, dear. I wish he was.’' 

After this she fell asleep, and slept so sweetly they 
hoped she might yet be spared. When she awoke, 
Howard still sat by her bedside, his hand clasping 
hers. He had not dared to remove it, for fear her 
slumber might be disturbed. She was, if possible, 
happier than ever. She talked a great deal to all her 
dear ones, and begged them all to come to Jesus. She 
sent messages, too, to all her little playmates, bidding 
them “Good-bye,” and desiring them to meet her in 
heaven. 

Once, when she seemed much better, and her mother 
told her there were some hopes of her recovery, she 
said : 

“ I would rather go to heaven, mother. But that is 
wrong. I wish to die or live, just as God pleases.” 

The day before her death, she talked to her father a 
great deal about Howard. 

“You know his desire to enter the ministry, dear 
father. Won’t you promise me you will not hinder 
him ? He lives so near God, 1 am sure he will make 
a good, true minister.” 

Her father gave her his promise. 

As the time of her departure drew near, her trust in 
her Saviour grew stronger. Bidding them all a long 


42 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


farewell, she requested the always appropriate Twenty- 
third Psalm to be sung. While the words, 

“ Yea, though I walk through death’s dark vale,” 

were being sung, her spirit passed to that home where 
she could truly say ; 

“ In God’s house for evermore 
My dwelling-place shall be.” 

They laid her tenderly away among the daisies in 
the little church-yard, but the good words she had 
spoken, and her triumphant death, lived and brought 
forth much fruit in the hearts of the dear ones left 
behind, many days after she was mouldering in the 
dust. Howard, too, now thoroughly awake, sought to 
impress the dying words of Carrie on the tender minds 
just now left desolate. Laura, the eldest sister, who 
had hitherto been careless, now, for the first time, felt 
her need of a Saviour. She was not ashamed to come 
to Howard for instruction, in her hour of sorrow and 
gloom. Even little Kate, though so young in years, 
seemed to have imbibed the spirit of her dead sister. 
Out of the depths of her great gri(^f, arose the cry, 
O God, prepare me for death ! ” 

So, this young child, in her death, did more for God 
than many Christians who spend long lives in God^s 


SICKNESS AND DEATH, 


43 


service. ^^Let your light so shine before men, that 
they, seeing your good works, may glorify your Father 
who is in heaven.” 

“ Light after darkness, gain after loss ; 

Strength after weariness, crown after cross ; 

Sweet after bitter, song after sigh ; , 

Home after wandering, praise after cry ; 

Sheaves after sowing, sun after rain ; 

Light after mystery, peace after pain ; 

Joy after sorrow, calm after blast ; 

Rest after weariness, sweet rest at last ; 

Near after distant, gleam after gloom ; 

Love after loneliness, life after tomb ; 

After long agony, rapture of bliss ; 

Christ was the pathway leading to this.’* 


CHAPTER V. 


PURPOSES AND CROSS-PURPOSES. 

“ What thou doest, do with thy might.” 

“ Help yourself! It is best, young man. 

Stand up straight, for you know you can. 

Call on nobody 1 That’s the plan. 

When you have showed the world your light, 
Earned your way in the busy fight. 

Friends you will find to the left and right.” 


FTER little Carrie’s death, the father did not 



forget his promise in regard to Howard. For 
many days it was not mentioned. Howard thought it 
best to let his father take his own time to think the 
matter over. He was, however, very anxious to know 


what would be his father’s decision, in regard to his 


going to college immediately. He did not know from 
whence the means would come, but was willing to 
trust God to provide. He now felt how wrong it 
was to chafe and despond, and to abandon his course, 
l)ecause the door seemed shut. Why did he not trust 
God to open the way before him? He felt the late 
trouble through which he had passed to be a reproof to 


( 44 ) 


PURPOSES AND CROSS-PURPOSES. 45 

him for his lack of faith. This was the third time 
he could trace the hand of God rebuking him for look- 
ing back, after having put his hand to the plow. First 
when his friend was snatched from him so suddenly by 
death^s cold hand. Next when his own lamp of life 
burned so low, and was almost extinguished. And 
now when his little sister was laid beneath the willows. 
He dared not look back again, even if he wdshed to 
do so. 

One evening, about a month after Carrie’s death, 
his father came into his room looking unusually sad. 
After taking a seat, he spoke as follows: 

‘‘Howard, you know the promise I made Carrie, to 
let you go to college, should you still desire to do so. 
You know my wish in regard to your entering a pro- 
fession, but I could not refuse my dying child’s request, 
and I have come to say, if you still think you cannot 
take to farming, and can work your own way, I will 
not longer hinder you. You are free to use your own 
pleasure.” 

“Oh, father, how can I thank you ! All I have been 
waiting for is your consent.” 

“You must remember, my boy, it will take money 
to take you to college, and that I do not feel I can 
supply. You know I have just finished paying for 
the farm, and it takes all I can make to keep up 


46 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


repairs, and take care of my family ; to be sure it is one 
smaller now,^’ and the usually harsh man wiped a tear 
from his eye. I feel, if I give your time, it is all I 
can do.’^ 

That is all I ask, father. If I cannot work my 
own way I deserve to fail. I am very sorry to leave 
you, when you need my help, but God is pointing my 
way so plainly, that I cannot, I dare not look back. 
By three heavy strokes has God shown me the way 
he would have me to go. First in Willie^s death; 
next in my own sickness ; and now in the heaviest blow 
of all, dear Carrie’s death. I dare not again falter, or 
faint by the way, lest a worse thing come upon me.” 

“ I cannot see that these were special providences for 
your punishment more than for others. Without doubt 
God sends trouble to punish us for our sins, but we 
cannot trace out one sin more than another.” 

‘‘I know by my own experience, that each sin 
brings its own punishment; at least, I think this is 
true. I had never thought much about preparing for 
death, until I was aroused by the sudden death of my 
best friend. In my darkest hour, I promised God to 
devote myself to his service, should he give me light, 
and rescue my soul from its terrible despair. Graciously 
he granted my request. Soon, however, I grew cold 
in his service, and was about to give up all hopes of 


PURPOSES AND CROSS-PURPOSES, 


47 


ever entering the ministry, when I was stricken down. 
Had God called me then, I would have gone into his 
presence with my vows unfulfilled. Again, God heard 
my prayers, and rescued me from death. For the last 
two years, I have been trying to prepare for my work; 
but, you are aware, how I abandoned all hopes of com- 
pleting my education. I even questioned God^s faith- 
fulness, when the way seemed closed. Because I could 
not have my own way, opened up straight before me, 
I determined I would not go at all, in the path God 
seemed to be pointing out. I should have trusted him, 
and waited patiently until he said, ^Go forward.’ 
How much easier it is for us to learn to labor, than to 
wait. All I want is my time. If my life is spared, I 
can, with God’s help, do the rest. God will open up 
some way for me, if I trust him fully.” 

‘^Do as you wish, but I fear you will fail. I 
am sorry to lose your assistance, but must keep my 
promise.” 

I do not expect to fail. I know the road is rough 
and steep before me, but others have travelled it, and 
reached the summit. Why should not I?” 

“ We cannot liope to be mowers, 

And gather the ripe, golden ears. 

Until we have first been sowers 

And watered the furrows with tears.” 


48 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


Howard now turned his attention toward seeking 
some employment, in order to secure the necessary 
means to enter college. As is generally the case with 
young students, he first tried to procure a situation as 
teacher. Failing here, he sought for other work, but 
it seemed there was nothing for him to do. At length, 
Mr. Turner, who kept a wholesale liquor store, in a 
neighboring town, offered him good wages, if he would 
immediately take the place of a clerk who had left him 
unexpectedly. This offer he rejected. His father 
urged him to accept it, saying, ^^Mr. Turner is an 
honorable man.” 

His business does not speak well for him,” said 
Howard. I would rather shovel and dig all my life, 
than risk myself in such a place.” 

^Ht is not necessary for you to run any risk. You 
certainly will not be forced to drink.” 

I would be compelled to offer the cup to others, 
which I could not do conscientiously. No, no, I must 
not go there. My employment must be honest.” 

“Well, well, do as you please; but you are foolish 
to throw away such a good offer,” replied his father. 

At last, through Mr. Brown, he was appointed 
janitor in C college. He was to receive his board- 

ing and tuition in return for his services. He knew he 
would have much hard labor to perform, yet his heart 


PUEPOSES AND CROSS-PURPOSES. 49 

went out in thankfulness to the Great Giver, who had 
opened the way so opportunely. His first day there 
was one of trials. He was not long in discovering 
that not only his clothes but also his manners needed 
much brushing and polishing. Even his old friend, 
Milo Lee, did not wish to recognize him, and passed 
with the cold bow of a stranger. Howard was glad 
when night came to hide away from the rude stares and 
jeers of the students. 

He found his work arduous. He was obliged to 
work early and late, to attend to his duties and keep 
up with his studies. He often felt home-sick; for 
even the members of his own class, if they did not 
actually evade him, failed to notice or give him a wel- 
come. About a week after the session opened he was 
given a room-mate, a young man by the name of 
Addison Moore. He was from the southern part of 
Georgia; a mere puppet, with more conceit than 
brains, and who was more perplexed about the fit of 
a coat than about his theorems in geometry. When 
introduced to Howard he stared at him as he would 
have done at an Arab, and said to the student that had 
brought him to his room : 

I think, sir, you have made a mistake; this young 
person cannot be my room-mate.’^ 

He did not condescend to converse with Howard, 
4 


50 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


but had many orders to give. The next day Howard 
heard him complain to one of the professors, that he 
could not room with a Hottentot. If there was no 
other room to be found he would be obliged to return 
home, much as it would inconvenience him. The next 
day another young man came into his room, and, after 
some c*onversation, agreed to exchange rooms with 
young Moore. This young man’s name was Wilbur 
Norris. He did not like his room-mate, who was a 
weak, effeminate young man. Young Norris was 
some three years Howard’s senior, and was considered 
one of the brightest students in his class. He was 
kind, sensible and considerate; but, with all his good 
traits of character, he was a miserable skeptic. Some 
remarks he made during the first evening led Howard 
to distrust him, and when he took his Bible to read 
his usual devotional exercise, for a moment he wavered, 
studying whether or not to kneel down and commit his 
all to the Saviour’s keeping ; but the words, If ye are 
ashamed of me before men,” flashed into his mind, and 
regardless of that disdainful curl of the lip he dropped 
upon his knees, and in his heart-felt prayer forgot the 
presence of any one save God. Many times in the 
future did he look back and bless God for the victory 
of that hour. Henceforth, thy going out and in, 
God keep for ever will.” 


PURPOSES AND CROSS-PURPOSES. 51 

In that same hour did Wilbur Norris determine to 
leave no stone unturned to shake the faith of that 
young, trembling heart. Cautiously he set to work to 
sow his tares. By gentle means did he expect to under- 
mine the faith of his unsuspecting victim. How careful 
he was to live a moral, upright life ! He observed the 
Sabbath as rigidly as Howard did, saying he observed 
it because it was necessary to have the rest and quiet, 
in order to continue his studies during the week. He 
offered infidel books to Howard to read, but when he 
did not read them he said nothing, but quietly laid 
them aside. Speaking of them again, Wilbur asked : 

“How do you expect to meet these arguments if you 
do not know what they are ? You should read and 
inform yourself, and then you could reason logically.” 

“ There may come a time for me to read even such 
books as those of which you speak, but that time is not 
yet. There is a wide difference between a man of 
mature years and a school-boy discussing these things. 
It is only while we walk in the way God has appointed, 
that we have the promise of his watchful care over ns. 
It was to his own people that he gave his angels charge 
concerning them. If we go about in forbidden paths, 
we may expect, like lost sheep, to go astray.” 

While these contentions were going on between these 
two, who, in spite of their disagreements^ were very 


52 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


warm friends. Howard, though the youngest member 
of the class, had worked his way up, until he stood 
third in a class of fifty-nine. Regardless of his rough 
clothes he had many friends. Milo, who had not the 
moral courage to acknowledge him at first, was now 
proud to claim him as an old friend. He felt heartily 
ashamed of having treated him so unkindly. 

There were, in this college, two secret societies, to 
which many of the students belonged. The good 
president. Dr. James, and all the professors were much 
opposed to these organizations; but, as they were not 
forbidden by the laws of the college, they were power- 
less to prevent them. One of the leading members of 
one of these societies was Norman Thorp, the best 
student in the college. The president of the other one 
was Wilbur Norris. 

While Howard was only the abused janitor, no one 
disturbed his peculiar views, on secret associations; but 
now, since he had risen above gentlemen in broadcloth, 
and stood almost ready to contend for the first 
honors of his class, he was worth initiating. So they 
were continually dogging his steps, determined that 
he should unite with them. Their praises were sung 
in his ears, until, if he knew nothing of their doings, 
he would have believed them harmless and innocent. 
Much controversy arose, in regard to the good and 


FURPOSEJS ANF CliO^SFUliFOSES. 53 

evil effects of these societies in general. Each repre- 
sentative applauded the good done by his own society ; 
Howard, meantime, maintaining, if so much good 
and no evil was done, why not make it public? If it 
will stand the day, why not bring it to the light ? You 
say yourselves there is nothing secret except signs 
and minor points. These are so ridiculous you are 
ashamed to let God^s light shine on them. The mat- 
ter ran so high, that the Board interfered and desire<l 
the controversy to cease ; so, for the present, the fire 
was smothered, but it was not put out, as we shall see 
some months hence. 

In the midst of the trials and hardships through 
which Howard was passing, there came unwelcome news 
from home. His mother wrote of the sorrow Harry 
was causing them, by his waywardness and intemper- 
ance. O God ! ” she wrote, that I should live to 
see one of my sons a common drunkard.” 

My poor brother,” was the cry of Howard^s heart, 
when he carried his trouble to a Throne of Grace, 
pleading for this brother, dearer to him than his own 
life. ‘‘O God ! let this cup pass. Surely, Father, this 
trouble is greater than we can bear.” He spent the 
greater part of that night in prayer. He felt there was 
a battle to fight and a victory to win, ere this new 
grief would flee away. He wrote a long letter to his 


54 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


mother, and a tender, pleading one to Harry. Poor 
Harry ! he wept over his brother’s kind letter, and de- 
termined never to touch one drop of the vile liquor, 
but alas! misguided boy, he made this resolution in 
his own strength, soon to fail, when assailed by a new 
temptation. The mother wept and pleaded ; the father 
scolded and frowned; Laura looked on, and tried to 
shame or coax ; the little ones were frightened, and 
would hide away, when Harry came staggering 
home. But nothing seemed to do any good. For 
a while he would stay at home and try to do right, but 
let him meet one of his dissipated companions, and he 
forgot all his good resolutions. 

One stormy evening in the latter part of March, 
Howard was handed a telegram bearing these words, 
‘^Little Frankie is dead! come home.” Little 
Frankie! The baby! The dear little fellow ! The 
light of the house gone, gone forever. In ten hours, 
he was with the stricken family. He found them 
weeping over the little white-robed form, beautiful in 
death. The story was soon told : a sudden attack of 
croup — a few hours of intense suffering — and the little 
one was at rest. Rest, rest, eternal rest! 

Oh, Howard,” said the mother, as he stood gazing 
on the happy dead ; this is a hard stroke, but not 
the hardest we have to bear. Would to God that 
Harry was as safe as that dear child.” 


PUBPOSES AND CROSS-PUBPOSES. 


55 


‘^Oh, brother/’ exclaimed Harry, entering the room 
and throwing his arms around Howard’s neck ; my 
bad deeds have caused this trouble to fall upon us. 
Dear, dear Frankie ! I cannot live without him. He 
■was so sweet — so good.” 

Harry, he is better off with Jesus. He is safer 
now. He will never give our parents trouble. He 
has finished the work God gave him to do. I would 
not have him back, much as we shall miss him.” 

Long the brothers talked over that little coffin, and 
many good promises did Harry make, only to break 
them when tempted again. He could not stand alone. 
The solemn prayer Howard put up for him, when 
they were alone with their dead, was not forgotten. 
It was the one sad, sweet memory, that followed him 
in all his wanderings, and kept him from sinking 
deeper into sin. 

Back at school, Howard worked with a new will — 
partly to gain the time he had lost, and partly to keep 
out the remembrances of the sad scenes through which 
he had just passed. Sad as he felt about baby 
Frankie’s death, he thought much more of poor 
Harry’s fate. He had promised to forsake his evil 
ways, but there was no assurance of his reformation 
while he groped alone in his own strength. Many 
an hour, wdien all the world was hushed in slumber — 


56 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


\ 

when no eye but the Omnipotent beheld — did this 
young disciple, on his bended knees, plead for the 
rescue of his fallen brother, who seemed a part of 
himself. 

A few weeks after his return to school, he received 
a letter from his mother containing the following : 

“How lonely is our home now ! We have lost four of our num- 
ber from our fireside; two by death, and one by intemperance. 
Harry is lost to us, I fear, and you are far away. How I miss dear 
little Frankie ! How I miss the patter of his little feet, the good- 
night kiss, the prattle of his little tongue, his sweet baby caress ! 
Oh, I miss him everywhere ! There are no torn pinafores to mend, 
no heelless little socks to darn, no toy-littered room to sweep, no 
finger-marks upon the window-pane. The little crib is empty now, 
and all is too still about the house. Yet after all the void and ache 
his loss has caused, I would not have him back. I would rather, 
much rather, endure this heartache than risk my baby’s future in 
this sorrow-stricken world. I feel I have two dear children to wel- 
come me in heaven when I go. What shall I say of Harry ? The 
beautiful boy I used to be so proud to hear people admire. I 
had hoped that little Frankie’s death had not been in vain. Harry 
had seemed so thoughtful since ; but alas ! last night he came home 
worse intoxicated than ever before. Your father was very angry, 
and treated him very harshly. I believe but for my pleadings he 
would have turned him out in the cold. He says he will not endure 
this any longer. I feel sometimes as though my burden is greater 
than I can bear. It does seem there is no use in trying to reclaim 
Harry, but unkindness only drives him farther away. What a 
comfort you are, my son, in these dark and troublesome days ! How 
we long to have you with us again ! We are counting the days till 


PURPOSES AND CBOSS-PURPOSES. 57 

vacation, hoping that somehow your presence may yet save your 
brother.” 

These loving words from his mother were more 
precious to the young student than gold. An entry 
in his journal, not designed for any eyes but his own, 
shows his feelings : 

’ “ C , Pa. 

“A letter from my dear mother speaks of Harry’s downfall again. 
O Harry ! my beautiful, loving brother 1 Will he — must he go 
down to the drunkard’s hell ? Would to God this drinking curse 
was wiped from the earth. How many once happy homes are to- 
day shrouded in darkness because the wine-cup has been there in 
its fury ! Almost every criminal in the land was made such by the 
influence of rum. Why do the people not rise up and say, This evil 
shall be washed out, even if it takes blood to cleanse it. I cannot — 
will not give up my brother. I feel he will yet be snatched from 
this horrible thraldom. I can only pray, and leave the rest to God. 
In Jesus only is there help and strength. My precious mother I 
What troubles she has to bear ! I almost feel that it is my duty to 
go home, and try to comfort the dear ones there. Her tender, 
loving words are more valued by me than all the praise of a false and 
fickle world. Mother, your hoy must be saved 

If I had any faith in religion,’^ remarked Wilbur 
Norris one day, I would believe you to be a real 
Christian. You come nearer trying to live up to your 
profession than any one I ever knew.^^ 

I am afraid, Wilbur, if you take me for an exam- 
ple, you will form a poor opinion of our holy religion.’^ 
If all Christians were as consistent, I would think 
there was more reality in these mysterious subjects.” 


58 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


You should not judge Christianity by its profes- 
sors. If they do not live blameless lives, you need not 
despise their religion. The fault is in them, and not 
in the belief they express. Study the Holy Bible. 
Take Jesus for your pattern. Do not reject him 
because his followers lead inconsistent lives.” 

do think Christians are the most inconsistent 
people in the world. Why, if I believed there was a 
heaven to win, and a hell to shun, I would make it the 
business of my life to prepare for the future. How 
many who say they believe in the Bible and a world 
to come make it the very last thing in their lives to 
be governed by its precepts, or to think of its promises 
and threatenings ! Their business must have their first 
attention ; then, if there is time, they give a few 
thoughts to their soul’s great interest. I tell you they 
do not believe what they say they do, else heaven 
would be the one great theme of their lives, instead of 
being taken up occasionally, and handled as a costly 
ornament too good for daily use. If they believed in 
their own professed faith, every one would be like the 
man of whom we have all read, who, coming to earth 
from one of the starry abodes, and hearing of the fall 
and redemption of man, was astonished to find that 
the people did not quit all their business and pleasure 
pursuits and get ready for the other world. He could 


' PURPOSES AND CROSS-PURPOSES. 59 

scarcely find a minister who could take time from his 
daily rounds to direct him the way to heaven. Think 
you, if I believed all these fables, I would rest until 
every being of my acquaintance was awakened from 
sleep, and was prepared to escape from the burning pit, 
just ready to open beneath him at any moment?” 

‘‘I know full well we do not live as we should. 
We injure our cause greatly by our careless lives ; but 
you acknowledge the Bible to be pure and blame- 
less.” 

‘‘As a work of literary beauty it cannot be’ sur- 
passed ; but that it is more than a mere fairy-tale, I 
cannot admit.” 

“ Take it avvay, and what will become of all our free 
institutions? What will become of society at large? 
The Bible is the very foundation of all the privileges 
we enjoy. Take it away, take away our Sabbaths and 
our sanctuaries, and how long would our homes, our 
lives, or our property be secure? It is the teaching 
of Christianity, the great theme of the Bible, and that 
alone that gives to us our safety. Let Infidelity once 
take possession of our land ; where then would be our 
peace at home, and peace abroad ? ” 

“I admit its morality is the purest and holiest 
taught.” 

“Not only the purest and holiest, but the only 


60 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


morality : the basis on which all other morality is 
founded. Would you not yourself feel safer under 
the roof of a praying man, than under that of an 
infidel, supposing you were cast on the tender mercies 
of either?” 

‘‘This I cannot deny. I cannot help but acknowl- 
edge that the Bible is an excellent rule as a guide to 
happiness in this life. Its golden rule is perfect.” 

“ If it is so powerful in preparing us for happiness 
in this life, why not in the life which is to come? 
Why can you not go a little farther and see it opening 
the doors of the New Jerusalem, and admitting the 
blood-washed throng into the rest prepared for the 
people of God? Oh, Wilbur, I have a sister and 
brother in that happy land, washed and made white 
in the blood of the Lamb. I would not believe that 
death is an eternal sleep, else what hope of again 
beholding those dear ones who have passed to the 
other world? ‘ We shall know each other there,’ and 
what a happy meeting that will be ! ” 

“Would to God I had your faith; but I have lost 
faith in everything — in myself as well. I cannot 
understand this strange life. 

“What is this life? and what its aim? 

What is its end to be ? 

Where do we go, or whence we came — 

Say, who can answer me ? 


PURPOSES AND CROSS-PURPOSES. 

Is tills the first — the opening strife ? 

Or, have I lived before? 

Is death the germ of other life 
Beyond this mundane shore ? 

Perhaps the time may come at last 
When I can read the whole: 

The present volume and the pastj 
ThaCs w'iiten on my souU* 


61 


CHAPTER VI. 


SOWING THE WIND. 

“ The way of the transgressor is hard.” 

“ Sometimes souls He loves are riven 
By tempests wild, and thus are driven 
Nearer the better land.” 

“FT was with a sad yet happy heart that Howard 
turned his feet homeward at the close of the year. 
His remembrance of home was not the holiest: not 
from the lack of affection on the part of its members, 
but from a want of manifesting the tender courtesies 
of life. 

The harsh method of the father had much to do with 
the gloom that ever pervaded that home. Cheerless 
as he expected to find the old homestead he longed to 
be there, to impart comfort to the weeping ones, and 
endeavor to rescue the fallen one. As he looked back 
over his life he could not but regret how little he had 
done towards making home bright and attractive. 
Now he felt the selfishness that had prompted him to 

read and study, when he might have been helping his 
( 62 ) 


SOWING THE WIND. 


63 


brothers and sisters to while away their tedious hours. 
How much he might have done towards keeping Harry 
out of the way of temptation ! Now, alas ! these pre- 
cious moments were gone forever. 

He did not rest many days, for the fields were white 
for the harvest, and his help was needed. How his 
heart ached when he looked upon the bloated face of 
his once beautiful brother ! His complexion had lost 
its clearness, and his soft brown eyes their brilliancy. 
Day by day, as they worked side by side, they talked 
of everything, except the one thing nearest their hearts. 
Howard understood human nature too well to intro- 
duce the subject until a favorable opportunity arrived. 
At length Harry opeqed the subject himself, by 
asking : 

‘‘How is it, Howard, you never mention my down- 
fall? Were you not aware that I have lost my repu- 
tation ? 

“ Not lost it, I hope, brother dear. I am very sorry, 
Harry, that you have got into bad company, which 
has led you astray ; but I trust you have now shaken 
them off, and are fully determined to walk in the 
straight and narrow way, which is the only safe 
way.” 

“It is easier to talk of breaking loose from bad 
habits and associates than it is to do it. How often 


64 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


have I tried and failed, until I think there is no use 
in trying any more! It is like a ball : once started to 
roll down hill, it must go — it cannot stop itself/^ 

^^No, it cannot stop itself; but let a power suffi- 
cient be applied, and its progress will be arrested at 
once. So it is with us. AVhen started down the hill 
of sin, nothing short of the power of Jesus can stay 
our speed and bring us back to the fold of God. He 
says, ‘Without me ye can do nothing.' So, dear 
brother, cease your vain efforts in trying to extricate 
yourself. ‘Cast your burden on the Lord, for he careth 
for you.' " 

“Do you believe he would help me now, when I 
cannot help myself, knowing I refused him wdien I 
was not so powerless?" 

“Most assuredly he would. Every time is a time 
of need with us; but when we see our need, then it is 
we are ready for his help." 

“I fear it is too late now. Why did you not tell 
me this a year ago?" 

“Why did I not? Why did I not? That is what 
I am continually asking myself. Why did I let these 
precious years go by, while I enjoyed my Master’s 
love, and did not make this love known to the dear 
ones about me? But now, Harry, the book of the 
past is sealed, and we cannot open it No matter how 


SOWING THE WIND. 


65 


much we regret what is written against us, we cannot 
wipe it out. Our deeds we cannot undo; our words 
we cannot unsay. We can only pray God to wash 
out all our unworthiness in the blood of the Lamb. 
The future is ours, and we will be accountable to God 
for the way in which we improve or misimprove our 
privileges.” 

“ Howard, you do not know how I long to give up 
my evil ways, but it seems I am bound with a chain 
which I cannot break. You do not know how I love 
the accursed thing. There are times when I would 
give the world for a drink of rum. How I wish 
every rum-seller’s establishment was buried in its own 
ruins! But, alas ! while there is rum, there will be the 
thirst for it. To you, who know nothing of its power, 
it is easy to talk of giving it up and leading a new 
life and so forth; but, to the drunkard, it is his all. 
There was a time when it would not have cost me an 
eftbrt to leave it off, but the love of it grew on me so 
gradually, that I was not aware until I was bound 
hand and foot.” 

‘‘There is but one way out of this thraldom, and 
that is through faith in Jesus. You cannot stand 
alone. Nor can I. I keep asking for help and 
strength hourly, and then fail.” 

“ If I could only get away from my bad associates, 
5 


66 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


there might be some hope. It is so gloomy at home, 
I grow desperate and go out for relief. Then it is the 
tempter seizes me, and I am unable to withstand the 
terrible array against me. If I only had a happy 
home, I would be Avilling to try again.” 

“Have not you and I had something to do with 
making our home unhappy? Have we always been 
kind and pleasant, studying the happiness of others in 
preference to our own?” 

“I do not see any chance of doing much. Father 
never allowed us the privilege of doing anything with- 
out his permission. I scarcely dare to think in his 
presence. He has been a tyrant, but he will not 
tyrannize over me much longer.” 

“Harry, Harry! remember you are speaking of your 
father.” 

f^He has never been a father to me. I do not think 
he ever spoke one kind word to me in his life. What- 
ever sins are bqoked against him, he will not be charge- 
able with kindness overmuch to his family.” 

“You mistake him, Harry. I do not believe there 
jives a father who feels more deeply for his children 
than he does. I cannot deny the rough exterior, but 
underneath there lies a loving heart.” 

“Why don’t he show it, then? You know as well as 
I do hpw unhappy we have always been. You cannot 


SOWING THE WIND. 


67 


forget how fearful we used to be in our stolen games. 
We knew if he caught us fooling away our time 
playing, even in childhood, we were sure to be pun- 
ished. Many a time we have talked of his harshness, 
and were only too glad when business called him away 
for a few days.’’ 

I do not approve of his severe training, but I am 
sure he feels more than that for which you give him 
credit. The death of little Carrie and Frankie brought 
out his love and tenderness.” 

“Why does he not show it by his kindness to the 
living?” 

“I think he is much more considerate than he used 
to be. He is our father, and no matter how he treats 
us, we should do our duty towards him, and then we 
will not have to look back with regret when he is num- 
bered with the dead. Do not let us talk longer on 
this subject. Suppose you come with me to college 
this fall.” 

“Go to college? What do you mean ? Do you want 
to be disgraced with your drunken brother? You must 
be mad!” 

“But you would not drink there. I will help you, 
and God will help you, if we ask him.” 

“How will I get money to go?” 

“I will ask father. I think he will help you.” 


68 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


^^And I am sure he will not. Why, there was 
nothing in the world to prevent him from assisting 
you, and yet he allowed you to go there and be a ser- 
vant to others far beneath you. Not only this, but 
you had to peddle books to make enough to buy your 
second-hand books to keep up with your class and pur- 
chase a decent suit of clothes.” 

‘^No matter; better peddle books (as you are pleased 
to term my canvassing) than go in debt for them. 
Better to make fires, to sweep and dust, than to go 
through the world without an education. I feel that 
it is better for me to be obliged to work my own way, 
although not so pleasant; and if father cannot assist 
you, I think I can help myself and you too.” 

‘‘Do you think I would go there and be dependent 
on you? I would like to go, to get away from home, 
but I will never go to be a dead weight on your hands. 
If I can get something to do, I think I might mend 
my way by being near you. I would like to have a 
good education, but it is not so much that I want now 
as help — help to save me from myself.” 

“We must try and make arrangements for you. If 
father will only consent to your going, I can arrange 
the rest. Where there is a will there is a way.” 

Howard did not feel well enough acquainted with 
his father to speak to him, but, as usual, went to him 


SOWING THE WIND. 


69 



through his mother. His answer was, No ; he cannot 
go.” Seeking Howard, he demanded that all such 
nonsense should be dropped. Harry is not ready for 
college ; besides, what good would he accomplish there? 
He don’t amount to anything in any place.” 

‘‘I hope, if he was there a while, he would amount 
to something. He thinks, and I am of the same 
opinion, that his only hope lies in his getting away 
from his haunts of vice.” 

Let him stay away from them, then. What need 
he go prowling around that low tavern ? If it had 
not been for your mother’s tears, I would have kicked 
him out long ago.” 

He knows he is down here, and that knowledge 
will have a tendency to make him feel debased, and 
not try to regain his standing.” 

‘^Here is the place to live down his bad doings. He 
cannot fly from them. If he is too weak to go by 
that vile den of iniquity here, he will find another 
wherever he goes.” 

If you thought this trip would be the means of 
saving him, you would be anxious to have him go?” 

“Yes, if I thought so, which I do not. He will 
only disgrace you.” 

“I am willing to run the risk, if you will only con- 
sent for him to go. I think it will do him good.” 


70 


HOWARD ASHTON, 


“I tell you I will not spend a cent on him. Let 
him give up his bad doings, and when I find he has 
thoroughly reformed, I will feel like helping him.’’ 

‘‘Well, will you not let me take him along? I will 
see that his way is paid without troubling you.” 

“ I think you have enough to do to keep yourself, 
without a drunken sot depending on you. It would 
take all your earnings to keep him in w'hisky.” 

“ Oh, don’t, father — don’t speak so,” and the dark 
eyes fairly flashed. 

“Don’t call that precious scoundrel a drunkard? 
If you could see him reeling and muttering in his 
drunken fury you would not be so tender of his 
name.” 

“Kindness may accomplish much. Harshness does 
no good.” 

“Do not mention this subject to me again. You 
shall not take him away to disgrace you. Much more 
likely he would drag you down with him, than that 
you should raise him up.” 

“I hope you do not think I could ever be a 
drunkard.” 

“I do hope not, but I never expected Harry to 
turn out as he has done. ‘Let him that standeth take 
heed, lest he fall.’ ” 

“ Forgive me, father. I am sorry I spoke as I did. 


SOWING THE WIND. 


71 


I am certainly no better than others, and I have to 
thank ray Saviour alone that I ara not a drunkard. I 
have not stood by ray own strength.” 

Harry was very anxious to hear the decision in 
regard to his leaving home. Howard did not give 
him a positive answer, still hoping his father might 
relent after further consideration. He had several 
talks with him, but he was as determined as ever. 
Finally he commanded him to let the matter drop. 
So this cherished plan had to be abandoned. Harry 
was much cast down by the decision. That night he 
went to the village. As soon as Howard missed him 
he followed, but too late to prevent him from drinking 
one glass of the drunkard’s poison. He found him 
in Dawson’s tavern with several of his boon com- 
panions, who were making much of him, as he had 
been absent longer than usual. They sneered at 
Howard, and used every endeavor to keep Harry 
with them ; but, after some persuasion, he consented 
to go home. 

Howard succeeded in getting him to bed without 
his father’s notice. Harry was much distressed when 
he awoke from his drunken slumber. He said he had 
no intention of drinking a drop when he entered the 
vile den, but was unable to resist the temptation when 
it was offered him. Howard tried to show him that 


72 


HOWARD ASHTON, 


his sin lay in entering the place of the tempter. Harry 
promised to try once more to quit his evil habits; but. 
alas ! for the strength that is weakness without God’s 
help ! In less than a week he was brought home 
worse intoxicated than ever before. His father’s 
anger knew no bounds. He would have cast him out 
of doors, but Howard’s timely interference and gentle 
remonstrance at last prevailed, and he was allowed one 
more trial. Harry did not awake till late the next 
day, and his terrible headache, that always followed 
his dissipation, prevented him from rising. Howard 
ministered to his wants, just as though he was not the 
cause of his own suffering. At first Harry was deter- 
mined to run away to hide from all his shame and dis- 
grace; but, after much persuasion on the part of 
Howard, he agreed to remain and brave the storm he 
knew was brewing. We will pass over the humiliat- 
ing scene, when he was compelled to face the family. 
Suffice it to say he was put on probation once more. 
Howard made one more unsuccessful attempt to gain 
permission for Harry to accompany him to college. 

Soon after this event Howard returned to his studies. 
Milo Lee was anxious to secure him for his room-mate 
this year, but Wilbur Norris had agreed to share his 
room at the close of the last term, and Milo had to 
bear his disappointment as best he could. He had not 


SOWING THE WIND. 


73 


forgotten his own nnkindness one year ago. Kow he 
felt heartily ashamed of his past conduct. About six 
weeks after the opening of the term Howard was sur- 
prised to receive a visit from Harry. His tale was soon 
told. After keeping from drinking for some time he 
again tasted and fell. His father could endure no 
more, and, regardless of the prayers of his mother and 
sisters, he was turned out to battle for himself — with 
the hard, cold world. He said : 

“ I have come to you, Howard, as to the only friend 
to whom I could turn. I knew you would give me 
good advice.’^ 

You must stay with me, Harry.” 

“ Stay with you ? How in the world can I do that ? 
I have not a cent of money.” 

You must enter college, and I will be responsible 
for your support.” 

Do you think I will burden you ? Do you think 
your fallen brother will be any credit to you?” 

I wish to benefit you, brother dear, and your com- 
pany will do me much good.” 

‘^If I can work my own way I will gladly remain; 
but I must not be dependent on you.” 

Never mind; we will find some way to get 
along.” 

Howard took another room so that Harry could be 


74 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


with him. He Qiade no explanations, except that his 
brother had joined him unexpectedly. He then made 
arrangements for Harry to enter college irregularly. 
There was a fund to assist needy students, in the hands 
of the college trustees, that he would not have touched 
for himself; but he now unhesitatingly applied for 
assistance for Harry, becoming responsible for the pay- 
ment of it himself. 

For a time Harry studied well, and seemed to enjoy 
himself. Howard wrote home informing his parents 
of what he had done. His father was very angry, and 
assured him of receiving no assistance from home, but 
his mother’s tender letter of hopefulness and thanks 
was very precious. 

Harry was doing so well, Howard felt amply repaid 
for all his trouble; but, alas! his hopes were doomed 
to bitter disappointment. One night the tempter came 
in the form of Addison Moore — the same student, it 
will be remembered, who had treated Howard so 
rudely one year before. Much to Howard’s chagrin, 
he persuaded Harry to accompany him to a concert in 
the village, and the result was, he came home half in- 
toxicated. From this time he neglected his books, and 
all Howard’s pleadings and entreaties were in vain. 
Harry was either with Moore, or Moore spent his time 
in Harry’s room. They were inseparable companions. 


SOWING THE WIND. 


75 


Howard used all his influence to break up this un- 
desirable association, while at the same time Harry 
charged Howard with having taken an aversion to 
Moore without just cause, saying: 

^^The reason you don’t like him is because he 
treated you shabbily.” 

Harry would often pretend that he had been in some 
of the students’ rooms studying, when really he had been 
in Moore’s room playing cards, drinking wine, and so 
forth, with some of Moore’s chums. One night, when 
Howard came to seek for Harry, he found, when the 
door was opened, only three or four students, studying 
their lesson in Geometry. He did not know that, 
while Moore noiselessly unlocked the door, the cards 
had been shuffled into a drawer of the table, and the 
books opened at just the proper mark. 

‘‘ Will you not walk in?” said the chief hypocrite. 

No, thank you. I came for Harry,” was the cool 
reply. 

I will be there presently,” said Harry. ‘‘ I want 
to finish this theorem.” 

Howard went back feeling that, perhaps, he was too 
suspicious ; but when, two hours later, Harry came in 
with the unmistakable smell of wine on his breath, 
Howard knew he had been duped. A few days after 
this, Moore had a cousin from the Soutli come to 


76 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


spend a few days with him. He was a professional 
gambler, and was not long in insinuating himself into 
the good graces of these young men, who had never 
yet played for money. This great friend of Moore’s 
insisted on staking money — -just a little at first, which 
he allowed the boys to win from him, in order to blind 
them. He allowed Harry to win ten dollars. This 
was again staked, and Harry lost. He was now de- 
termined to quit, but was urged on by the tempter. 
Again and again he continued to try “just once 
more,” in hopes of retrieving his loss. At last, after 
losing one hundred and fifty dollars, he could not be 
induced to try again. He was very angry, and ac- 
cused the Southerner, justly, of taking advantage of 
his ignorance. He told him he could not pay what he 
had lost, as he had no funds. 

“You must borrow it then,” said the gambler. 

By much threatening, he succeeded in frightening 
the poor boy to try to borrow the amount. 

Moore said he could not lend him the sum, for he 
was nearly out of money, but he thought he could pro- 
cure it from John Baird, who he knew had received 
some money just that day. Harry went to see Baird, 
and by representing to him that Howard had sent him 
to procure one hundred and fifty dollars, for two or 
three days, he succeeded in obtaining it. He then 


SOWING THE WIND, 


77 


drank deeper, and was taken to his room dead-drunk. 
Howard was deeply hurt. He felt, indeed, that there 
was no use in trying to save him. 

He spent the greater part of the night in weeping 
and. prayer. In the morning Harry still slept. How- 
ard had to attend to his duties, and quietly left the 
room. When, at the close of an hour, he returned, he 
found to his horror that Harry had gone. A note 
bearing only these words was left on the table : 

“ Howard : I was not sleeping when you went out. I am going 
away. After what has passed, I cannot stay. Do not blame me too 
much. I was only a tool in a villain’s hands. Good-bye.” 

Howard sat as one stupefied. Tbe breakfast bell 
rang, and after waiting on the college bell to ring some 
minutes, the President sent one of the students to ring 
it, thinking strange Howard had forgotten the time. 
Recitation followed recitation, before he aroused him- 
self. What to do, he knew not. He felt it would be 
useless to follow him. The whole story soon came to 
the surface ; and Mr. Baird went to Howard to see if 
it was correct. Howard knew nothing about the 
money, but on going to some of Harry’s associates, he 
learned the story was only too true. Mr. Baird was a 
poor man. This money he had earned by teach- 
ing, and had carefully saved it to pay his expenses at 


78 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


college. He needed it immediately. Howard had the 
money he had drawn for Harry’s support. This he 
gave to Mr. Baird, feeling that he must leave college, 
and try to obtain some work, in order to replace it as 
early as possible. He sought the President, ^Dr. 
James, related the whole story, and told him of his 
purpose. Dr. James sympathized deeply with him, 
but objected to his leaving the colleoje. 

‘‘ You need not pay that money until you are ready,” 
said the doctor. 

I cannot use this money for a gambling debt, and 
not replace it soon.” 

“ The debt was not contracted for yourself, Howard, 
and I am sure the Board will not expect its payment, 
until you can earn it, after leaving college.” 

I cannot take it for this purpose.” 

Then I will lend you the money to pay the 
Board, and I will wait until you can earn it,” said Dr. 
James. 

“ I cannot rest with this bill unsettled. Besides life 
is uncertain, and I do not wish to leave this burden on 
any other person.” 

“ Your father would attend to it in such an emer- 
gency.” 

'' Father was opposed to my influencing Harry to 
enter college. He wrote, saying he would not be 


SOWING THE WIND. 


79 


responsible for any of his doings. I still hoped 
Harry would do better away from his old associates ; 
but, as it has turned out, the end is worse than the 
beginning.’’ 

Dr. James finding the young student determined, 
undertook to assist him in finding a situation. After 
some delay, he succeeded in procuring a place, made 
vacant by the illness of a teacher, in the country, a few 

miles from C . The salary was good, and he entered 

on his duties with a determination to excel, and he was 
successful not only as a teacher but also as a student. 
Far into the night, books were his company. Be- 
fore leaving college he wrote to his father, making 
a statement of Harry’s doings and his own inten- 
tions. 

The father’s answer was just what might have been 
expected — cold, harsh, unkind. He censured Howard 
unmercifully for the part he had taken, and washed his 
own hands from all that had transpired. Howard 
worked diligently, both in school and out. Not an hour 
did he take for recreation or sport. His only pleasure 
was in hard, stern duty. Four months he spent in the 
school-room, and when he returned to college in the 
spring, he found he had not only money enough to pay 
what he had borrowed, interest and all, but he had a 
nice little sum left, which enabled him to procure 


80 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


books, and some other little things he needed. He 
had studied so closely, that he was allowed to enter 
his class and pass examination, just as though he had 
not been absent a day. 




CHAPTER VII. 


VACATION. 

“ Kest — blessed rest.* 

I E had heard from Harry several times. He was 
in Indiana, sinning and repenting — going from 
bad to worse, much as he had done at home. He had 
written a very penitent letter to Howard soon after 
his flight, deploring his evil course, and promising to 
refund the money Howard would be obliged to pay 
to save him from justice. The session closed at last, 
and the tired, worn-out student sought his home, this 
time to rest, for he was not able to take his place in 
the harvest-field, as had been his custom. Too close 
application had left its mark. The dark eyes, usually 
so bright, now wore a languid, wearied expression, and 
the pale, handsome face showed a great contrast to the 
bright, beautiful one of former times. No wonder the 
parents were alarmed at the shadow of the handsome 
boy, who had gone out strong and active from among 
the green meadows of his healthful country home. 
6 (81) 


82 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


Much as he had changed, his parents liad changed 
more. His father had grown gray and stooped ; his 
mother, sad and decrepid. 

If Harry could see the wrecks he has made, he 
would certainly make an effort to reform,’^ remarked 
Laura. 

“If he only would,^’ replied Howard, “how small 
would be the sacrifice ! I could give up everything, 
if Harry would only do right.’ 

“You have given up more now than most brothers 
would have done. I do not think God requires so 
much from you.” 

“ What has any of us done, in comparison with what 
Christ has done for us? We must not forget that we 
were wanderers from the fold of Christ. The gentle 
Shepherd did not forsake us when we stumbled by the 
way; but, on the other hand, how much more ten- 
derly did he lead us over rough places ! I believe God 
will yet hear our prayers, and bring Harry safely back 
into God’s own kingdom. I cannot believe but that 
we will yet be a united family in heaven. He is the 
child of too many prayers to be lost.” 

“I used to pray for him, but now when I make the 
attempt, something chokes me, and I cannot help 
feeling that such prayer is in vain. I have almost 
given up in despair,” answered Laura. 


VACATION. 


83 


'‘Once I, too, felt so. When I found how he had 
betrayed my kindness, giving me stones for bread, I 
felt my hopes were crushed forever; but a brighter day 
dawned, and I heard the voice of Jesus in reply to the 
old inquiry, 'How often shall I forgive my brother? 
Until seven times? Yea, I say unto you, not until 
seven times, but until seventy times seven.’ Now I can 
pray, ' Father, in thy own time and way, not in mine, 
bring back my erring brother from the paths of sin, and 
set his feet on the Rock that is high and strong.’ I have 
felt for some years that our family needed chastisement. 
We have never lived as a family should live. There 
is not that love, kindness and charity manifested 
among us, that should characterize a true Christian 
home. We have been suffering family visitations, not 
only in the death of our loved ones, but more par- 
ticularly in this great trial that is now humbling us 
in the dust. I feel that the rod will not be lifted 
until our selfish hearts are thoroughly purified, and we 
can say in all truthfulness, 'Father, we have done 
wickedly : return to us, and teach us as little children 
our duty.’ ” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

AVEDDING AND WINE. 

“ Bring flowers to deck the fair, young bride.” 

ND little, blue-eyed, fair-haired Goldie, the 



beauty of the family, was going to wed Squire 
Holland’s only son, Ralph. Goldie, a mere child, 
scarcely sixteen years of age. 

I cannot believe it,” said Howard; '^she is too 
young.” 

I will grow older,” chimed in the sweet-voiced 
Goldie. 

‘‘Yes, but are you sure, dear sister, you love this 
man so well, that in the dark hours, as come they will, 
and come they must, you can still feel, I can endure 
all for his sake?” 

“You take a very serious view of this step, brother. 
I do not count on dark hours. My life will be all 
honey-moon. To be sure, I love him — yes, better 
than I love myself, and that is saying a good deal. 
Besides, he is rich. Of course, I would not marry for 


( 84 ) 



WEDDING AND WINE. S5 

money alone, but I have no objections to it when there 
is love for a foundation. You don’t know how su- 
premely ha[)py I am.” 

“ Do not be so happy as to crowd Jesus out of your 
life. There is no real happiness without God’s 
blessing.” 

‘‘ Well, Hmvard, I do think you talk more religion 
than any preacher I know. Your every-day life is 
full of this subject, just the same as your Sabbaths. 
Just now, brother, you must not trouble me with your 
whims. When I am older, I will think of death. Not 
for the bride this solemn dirge. Let the bells ring 
and joy beam in every eye ! Keep woe afar ! ” 

‘^Tell me, sister: does Kalph not love wine all 
too well ? ” 

He loves it as you do — anything you can use or 
let alone at pleasure. Nothing more. He never uses 
too much.” 

There is always danger in the wine-cup. Every 
drunkard was once a moderate drinker. Do not trust 
to this frail bark. Look at Harry ! ” 

Harry is weak, but Ralph is strong. Besides, 
Ralph will do anything to please me.” 

^‘Then have him sign the pledge before you are 
married. He is honorable, and I am sure if he signs 
the pledge, he will faithfully keep it.” 


86 


HOWARD ASHTON, 


will not ask him to sign away his liberty. I 
have no objections to him taking a glass when he 
pleases. I would be ashamed if he could not control 
his appetite. I like to see a man have spirit, and be 
able to treat his friends, and at the same time keep his 
hand steady and his head clear. You are determined 
to lecture me to-day. I will see you at a more conve- 
nient season,’’ and she tripped merrily out of the room, 
not knowing that the convenient season would never 
come. 

The days wore away, and the nuptial hour drew 
near. Everything was prepared on a grand scale. 
The dinner was provided with every luxury ; even 
wine graced the sideboard, much as Howard was op- 
posed to it. He plead with Goldie to keep this poison 
from the feast, but all in vain. 

No one has a wedding-dinner without wine. I 
would not be different from others. The guests would 
think me mean.” 

^^Look at the consequences, Goldie. You do not 
know what harm your countenancing this evil may do. 
As you value him whom you hold dear, banish it. Do 
not run this fearful risk.” 

^^4t your own wedding you may do as you please, 
but at mine permit me to use my own judgment.” 

Mr. Ashton said, Howard, do not say anything 


WEDDING AND WINE. 87 

more on this subject. Goldie is leaving home, and 
her will shall be law on these small matters.” 

“ It is her influence, father, I am thinking so much 
about. Where shall the end be ? ” 

Do not fear for me, Howard. When I am in my 
own house, wine shall grace my table at all times. 
When you honor me with your company, I will dis- 
pense with it for your sake,” replied Goldie. 

It is not for myself — ” 

Stop, stop, Howard, we\^e heard your views, but 
I say again, as I said before, Goldie shall decide this 
matter,” and she did. 

Wine flowed freely. Joy beamed in every eye. 
Goldie flitted here and there, the very personification 
of loveliness. Her sky was all sunshine. She was 
happy. Ralph was all her own. How proudly her 
eyes followed him! He was so noble ! so bright! so 
grand ! so everything — one could desire in a husband ! 
Her own hand filled his wine-cup ! She it was who 
drank his health ! and insisted that he should drink, 
just one glass more, ‘^to the success of their guests,” 
but really to show Howard that Ralph was strong, and 
she was fearless. She did not observe his fiery eye and 
trembling hand ! She did not know his step was 
unsteady, and his brain in a whirl ! Others saw his 
danger, and more than Howard shuddered to see the 


88 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


young wife thus leading the being she loved best on 
earth to his own destruction; thus putting into his 
hands the implements with which to bury all her own 
future happiness. 

How unconsciously was she closing the doors and 
windows, which were intended to let in the bright sun- 
shine of peace into the new home she was just entering. 
She kept thinking, ^‘Dear heart! I cannot see, but I 
believe. The past was beautiful, but the future I can 
trust with thee ! ” 

We have seen the beginning ; we shall also see the 
end. 


CHAPTER IX. 


WALKING OVER SLIPPERY PLACES. 

“Thou art where billows foam, 

Thou art where music melts upon the air, 

Thou art around us in our peaceful homes, 

And the world calls us forth and thou art there." 

“ In a moment suddenly, to ruin brought are they.” 



IHE wedding and vacation both over, Howard 


found himself, invigorated by his rest, once 
more treading the old familiar paths of learning. 
Very unexpectedly he was appointed tutor, which 
enabled him to pay his expenses. An unusually large 
number of students were in attendance. The secret 
associations were using every effort to increase their 
numbers. Never had there been so much excite- 
ment, or electioneering, perhaps because there was an 
animated opposition with which to contend. Howard 
was actively engaged in attempting to suppress these 
organizations, while, on the other hand, Wilbur Norris 
was laboring, with even more zeal, for their up-build- 
ing. These boys, whose friendship was like that of 


( 89 ) 


90 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


Saul and Jonathan, seemed to have nothing else in 
common. The one — a skeptic, with no belief, no 
religion, no God. The other an earnest Christian 
endeavoring to do the duty nearest him. 

With the opening of the w'inter term came Ira 
Lester, son of Judge Lester, one of the ablest lawyers 
of the State. The high position the father occupied, 
in connection with Ira^s own charming address and 
witticism, soon made him a general favorite. 

Both societies used every possible means to bait him, 
but half the session passed along before he was caught. 
Then he cast in his lot with the same society over 
which Wilbur Norris presided. 

The night of his initiation came at last. Among 
other heathenish absurdities which they were obliged 
to practise was one of walking blindfolded three 
times around a certain tree. This tree stood near 
2b precipice some thirty feet in descent. By some mis- 
chance the young man made a misstep and fell. When 
he arose, he was so bewildered that he took a step 
in the wrong direction. His guide screamed and 
attempted to grasp him, but alas! one moment too late! 
He fell headlong over the rocky precipice — down, 
down, down, into the abyss below. Then all was still. 
Wilbur Norris was the first to act, as he had been 
the first to lead. Descending the fearful declivity, they 


WALKING OVER SLIPPERY PLACES. 91 

beheld their victim with his brains dashed out; a 
moan, a cry, and all was over. Tenderly bearing their^ 
precious burden, they finally, after much difficulty, 
succeeded in reaching their awe-struck comrades. 

What remorse filled their hearts when they beheld 
the mangled remains of their companion ! All felt 
guilty, but the ringleaders, who had duped their un- 
suspecting victim into their coils, thought the brand of 
Cain was stamped upon them. Surely , the blood of 
this young man would be required at their hands. 

A controversy arose how to dispose of the matter. 
Some of the weak ones, including Addison Moore — 
who was always on the wrong side — were in favor 
of trying to cover up the crime, by representing the 
calamity as the merest accident, over which no one had 
control. 

‘‘AVe will tell the truth,’’ replied Wilbur. ^^We 
have killed him, and there shall be no shirking respon- 
sibilities.” 

Messengers were despatched to the village to notify 
the proper authorities, while the rest of the sad com- 
pany sat with bowed heads and troubled hearts wait- 
ing for the verdict. 

There, in the solemn darkness of the forest, with 
their night’s work before them, did many of them 
resolve to forsake at once, and forever, all secret organ- 


92 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


izations. Some of these resolutions were faithfully 
l^ept and acted upon through life ; while others, like 
the dews of morning, passed away as soon as the 
cloud overshadowing them was lifted. Soon members 
of the faculty were on the ground, viewing the solemn 
scene. The only words of reproof Dr. James uttered 
were : 

‘^Boys, this is a terrible night’s work. May God 
not lay this sin to your charge ! ” 

After the coroner’s jury had given its decision of 
accidental death,” the procession moved sadly over 
the same road, passed so merrily but one short hour 
ago. This time the principal actor in the scene 
was borne in the arms of comrades, a poor, bruised, 
bleeding body. No mockery needed now! They have 
done their work. Their victim has been initiated! 
Truly, ^Hhere is but a step between us and death.” 

Early in the morning the distracted father arrived. 
His only son — whom he thought in a school where all 
the tender care and watchfulness of home were given — 
to meet such a death ! But could he cast blame on 
others? Was he not a master mason himself? and had 
he not gone through just such silly ceremonies ? 

^^This shall end my connection with all such soci- 
eties,” he said. 

AVould it not be strange if he had failed to keep this 
promise ? 


WALKING OVER SLIPPERY PLACES. 93 


The funeral exercises were conducted in the college 
hall, which was filled to overflowing. The services 
were deeply impressive. Dr. James, after making 
several attempts to conduct the exercises, was obliged 
to call on the Rev. Mr. Jeffers, saying: 

My heart is too full for utterance.” 

The good old minister, who had for so many years 
mourned with those that mourn, spoke from the words 
of the Psalmist, “Like as a father pitieth his children, 
so the Lord pitieth those that fear him.” How feel- 
ingly he described this tender sympathy of the dear 
Saviour, who wept at the grave of Lazarus! Every 
heart was touched, and eyes not used to weeping 
filled with tears. Then Dr. James offered prayer — 
such a prayer for help and light, for pity and comfort, 
for love and forgiveness, in this dark hour of trial. 

The exercises over, the mangled face viewed for the 
last time, the solemn procession moved slowly to the 
mournful tolling of the bell, to meet the train that was 
to bear the precious dead to the stricken home. Soon 
the iron horse came thundering along, heedless of the 
gloom enveloping the place. Dr. James, \Yilbiir 
Norris, and Howard Ashton accompanied the bereaved 
father to his sorrow-burdened home. There, amid the 
wailings of the grief-stricken parents and distress of 
friends, this household idol was laid to rest, without 


94 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


leaving behind one ray of hope to lighten the gloom 
around the grave. His father cried * 

‘^If I only felt he was better off, I would not shed 
a tear, but, oh ! to go down to the grave alone — with 
no hope, no Saviour, no heaven — this I cannot endure. 

“ ‘ Pity my woes, O God I 

And touch my will with thy warm breath ; 

Put in my trembling hand thy rod, 

That quickens death ; 

That my dead faith may feel thy sun, 

And say thy will be done.’ ” 

He was a good son, a kind brother, a moral young 
man, but not a Christian. The one thing needful was 
lacking. 

‘‘I was once a church-member,” said his father, 
and I hoped a Christian. But of late years I have 
been engaged in politics, and have neglected my duty 
to my children as well as to myself and to my God. 
Oh ! I could endure this great trial, if I had taught 
my son how to prepare to die, as well as how to pre- 
pare to live. Now I feel that, with all his beauty and 
talent, he is lost forever. I have no comfort in think- 
ing that I can go to him.” 

Dr. James tried to speak a word of comfort to the 
weeping father, but he would not be comforted. We 


WALKING OVER SLIPPERY PLACES. 95 

cannot comfort those whom the Father refuseth to 
comfort.” This poor family, with all their wealth and 
beautiful surroundings, had not even the privilege of 
looking on the face of their dead, so disfigured and 
loathsome had he become. But, even out of this 
darkness, a light grew to beckon them on to a better 
hereafter. At the grave of the departed, these parents 
vowed to live henceforth for the Lord, and to train 
their daughters for heaven. Leaving them with their 
God, we will return to the place from whence this 
great trouble arose. 

Out of this death grew a great revival, by which 
many souls were brought to seek the Saviour. This 
death was the germ of many new lives. Every night 
the College Chapel was filled to overflowing, by the 
anxious seekers. The feeling was so intense that a 
day was set apart for special prayer, for the outpour- 
ing of the Spirit of God, Not only the students, but 
the whole town, came to seek rest and peace to their 
sin-burdened souls. The Spirit of God was moving in 
their midst, and all denominations and creeds were 
forgotten. The people came together only to worship 
God, and ask, What shall I do to be saved ?” 
Such an ingathering to the churches was never before 
known in that section. Verily the words of the 
Psalmist ; 


96 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


In times of trouble, call on me, 

And I will answer thee,” 

were never more literally fulfilled. The mouths of 
all scoffers were stopped, and all were compelled to 
admit that 

“ God moves in a mysterious way 
His wonders to perform.” 

The students’ prayer-meeting, still a power in this 
school of learning, dates its origin back to the gra- 
cious meetings of this time. God has brought good 
out of evil. The secret societies, too, by common con- 
sent, disbanded. The Board and Faculty of the col- 
lege took the precaution to have its laws and regula- 
tions so changed, that these societies could not again 
exist in connection with it. 

In this great reformation Wilbur Norris stood at 
the head. His philosophy and skepticism all van- 
ished, in the hour when he needed their support. 
Infidelity could not exist, where the Spirit of God 
was striving. Only the Christian’s religion could 
bring comfort, when there was real need. 

O Howard,” he said, I feel as though the blood 
of Ira Lester would rise up in judgment against me.” 

You could not foresee this accident. Why are you 
to blame more than others who took part ? ” 

If I had only listened to your voice of warning ; 
but, alas! it is too late now. Repentance cannot bring 
back the dead.” 


WALKING OVER SLIPPERY PLACES. 97 


" It was a fearful, but, nevertheless, an all-wise dis- 
pensation of Providence. God has overruled it for 
much good. We know not why this young friend was 
taken and we left. We only know, ^He doeth accord- 
ing to his will, in the army of heaven, and among the 
inhabitants of earth ; and none can stay his hand, or 
say unto him, ‘ What doest thou ? ’ ” 

The scales have fallen from my eyes. God grant 
I may now lead a consistent life. My future is all 
changed. I always intended to enter the legal profes- 
sion ; and, since I entered college, as you know, I have 
ever looked forward to the time when I should enter 
my chosen profession. Now I feel like Paul. Woe is 
me, if I preach not the Gospel of Christ. I tremble 
when I think of the awful chasm over which I stood. 
I surely have been snatched as a brand from the eter- 
nal burning : but what a price has been paid to open 
my eyes ! The very life-blood of my young comrade 
has been poured out.” 

^‘Nothing less would suffice. God knows best. Do 
not grieve so much over what cannot be recalled, but 
look forward, and do the work your hands find to do. 

** ‘ Let the dead past, bury the dead, 

Act, act in the living present. 

Heart within, and God o’er head.’ ” 

As Howard felt his heart warming, more and more, 
7 


98 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


with the love of Jesus, the condition of his loved ones 
out of the ark of safety led him closer to the Throne 
of Grace. Once a week, regularly, every Saturday 
night, he wrote a long letter to Harry, pleading with 
him to flee to Jesus and forsake his evil ways. We 
quote from one letter : 

“ If you only could have been here, and seen poor Ira Lester, 
lying dead — he who had gone out, so short a time before, so full of 
life and hope — brought back a mangled corpse, and heard the poor 
father’s cries of anguish for his son, you would have felt the need 
of the Christian’s hope. In the time of death, notliing will answer, 
but a saving interest in the blood of the Redeemer. Come back 
here, Harry ; come back to one of our meetings, and I feel sure 
you will testify that it is good to be here. These blessed hours of 
prayer, how their memory will strengthen me in the dark hours 
that doubtless will come to me in the future ! ” 

• Harry’s letters were few and short ; bjit, from their 
drift, Howard feared that he was fast nearing infidelity, 
§0 burdened did he become with the charge of his 
brother’s soul, that time and again he presented Harry’s 
name for prayer, in the prayer-meetings. Such 
prayers were oflered, as Howard felt sure would reach 
the Throne of God. One night, after receiving a very 
discouraging letter, he requested Wilbur to spend the 
whole night with him in pleading fqr Harry’s conver- 
sion. Morning looked in upon these devoted followers 
of the Lamb, still wrestling with God for the sal- 


WALKING OVER SLIPPERY PLACES. 99 


vation of a soul going far from God and heaven. A 
special hour each night was, henceforth, set apart by 
these dear friends, to be observed as hours of prayer 
for the wanderer’s return. Why should mortals de- 
spair, while there is left this blessed privilege of 
prayer ! 

‘‘Prayer moves the arm that moves the world.” 

“Ask, and it shall be given you ; seek, and ye shall 
find ; knock, and it shall be opened unto you. 

“ For every one that asketh, receiveth ; and he that 
seeketh, findeth ; and to him that knocketh, it shall be 


CHAPTER X. 


IN THE DEEP WATERS. 


** God’s thoughts are not our thoughts, neither are his ways our 
ways,” 

** I thought, but yesterday, 

My will was one with God’s dear will ; 

And that it would be sweet to say, 

Whatever ill 

My happy state should smite upon, 

Thy will, my God, be done. 

“ But I was weak and wrong. 

Both weak of soul and wrong in heart ; 

And pride alone in me was strong. 

With cunning art 
To cheat me in the golden sun. 

To say, * God’s will be done I ’ ” 


Hj rOWARD^S last year at college closed, leaving 
him in possession of the prize of one hundred 
dollars, which was awarded to the student who held 
the best grades during the whole college course. 

He was much surprised, for he had not worked for 

this honor. So eventful had the year proved, that he 
( 100 ) 


IN THE DEEP WATERS. 


101 


had almost lost sight of his standing, till he was 
chosen Valedictorian in a class of fifty-nine. He held 
his audience spell-bound while he delivered his Fare- 
well.’’ Flowers, cheers and congratulations were 
showered upon him in abundance. He was ac- 
knowledged king of the day. Milo Lee remarked. 
Three years ago I was ashamed of my acquaintance 
with you ; now I am proud to have you acknowledge 
me. You have worked your way, and worked it well, 
surpassing us all, leaving many of us clear out of 
sight behind.” 

AVe cannot dwell on these bright, halcyon days — 
days ever to remain sunny islets in the sea of memory. 
Though they are past and gone, sweet is their memory. 

Home again. The dear ones welcome him most 
gladly, his little sister singing, ‘^Here the conquering 
hero comes.” Goldie and Ralph, too, have come to do 
him homage — Goldie as sweet and gay as ever, out- 
wardly, though a close observer could detect an under- 
current of unrest. It did not take Howard long to 
see that Ralph’s love of strong drink was increasing 
gradually but surely. Laura told him that Ralph had 
been intoxicated on several occasions, although Goldie, 
if she knew it, never referred to it. 

Howard had just been home a week, when he re- 
ceived a telegram from Iona, the village where Harry 


102 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


was living, saying, Harry is injured fatally. Come 
immediately.^^ In a few hours he was traveling west- 
ward as fast as steam could carry him. Even the 
lightning express seemed to move too slowly. How im- 
patient he grew, and how his prayers choked him, when 
he knew not whether his brother might not already 
be beyond the reach of prayer. He was with him at 
last, still living, but lying in a death-like stupor, from 
which the physician said he thought he would never 
awake. He was injured terribly about the head and 
back. There was no hope of recovery. The accident 
occurred in this way : Harry and a companion, both 
intoxicated, were thrown from a buggy, the horse 
having taken fright at a passing train. Johnny Marks 
escaped with a broken arm, but Harry had been 
dragged along over rough stones, and was insensible 
when picked up. 

Howard tried to pray, but each time his soul would 
cry out, “ There is no use ; God has denied me this 
prayer.” 

Must he die in this condition ? At first he tried 
to pray that his life might be spared; then that 
reason might be restored ere the life went out in 
darkness. 

O God ! ” he cried, in wrath remember mercy. 
Take him notaway in the midst of his days.” And 


IN THE DEEP WATERS. 


103 


then, finally, when day after day brought no change 
to the stricken boy — when the doctor said he was 
^ dying by inches, Howard’s rebellious heart became 
humble, and he prayed earnestly, If possible, let this 
cup pass ; yet not my will, but thine, O God, be done.” 
He could now look back and see that in all his prayers 
for this wanderer, he had prayed, Lord, save my 
brother,” instead of, ‘^If thou wilt. Lord.” He 
thought now his prayers had seemed too much like the 
form of command. Now, all must be left with God. 
If it was his will to remove this loved one in his 
wrath, he must submit without murmuring, even 
though it broke his heart. But, while life lasted, he 
still had the blessed privilege of prayer. The father 
and mother came at Howard’s call, and ceased not to 
wrestle with God for the soul of their misguided son. 
Howard now felt the import of the words, My Spirit 
shall not always strive with man.” 

** There is a time we know not when, 

A line we know not what, 

That marks the destiny between 
God’s patience and his wrath. 

" God’s Spirit will not always strive 

With hardened, self-destroying man ; 

Ye who persist his love to grieve 
May never hear his voice again.” 


104 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


Even with these truths before him, he could now 
say, Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him.” 

Now, when friends had committed this case to God 
alone, with no human hope, he saw fit to let the 
sleeper wake. It was many days, however, before he 
was able to converse, or even think. But when he 
could speak, it was to ask for the prayers of the dear 
ones who stood around his bed — prayers for his soul, 
that it might be prepared for the death he felt was 
fast approaching. But it was not God^s design to re- 
move him at this time. He came slowly back to life; 
so slowly that it was impossible to note any change 
from day to day. He would lie with closed eyes, 
listening to some cortiforting passage of Scripture, or a 
short prayer on his behalf. When he was stronger, the 
story of his injury was told him, and how long he had 
lain in a stupor resembling death ; how father, mother 
and brother had hastened to his bedside, and God had 
heard their prayers, as now there were hopes of a par- 
tial recovery. 

He felt very thankful that he had been spared, and 
offered one more chance of repentance. How he 
trembled when he thought of what his condition 
would have been, had he been called to the judgment- 
bar of God with all his sins upon his head ! Where, 
then, would have been his infidelity and vainglory ? 


IN THE DEEP WATERS. 


105 


Would they liave covered him in the day his own 
righteousness was weighed in the balance and found 
wanting? It was some time before he could be per- 
suaded that Jesus would receive such sinners as he. 

I have been, so wicked, even denying the existence 
of the great God who was feeding and caring for me 
every moment of my miserable life. My sins are too 
great to expect help in the dark days that have come 
upon me.’^ 

If you have sinned much, he also has loved much. 
Doubtless God has a wise design in this affliction. It 
may be just to bring you back to Jesus. Do not mis- 
trust him, brother, but come with all your sins, and 
lay them down at Jesus’ feet.” 

“Just as I am, without one plea, 

But that, thy blood was shed for me, 

O Lamb of God, I come.” 

He improved slowly, but his back grew no stronger, 
and by degrees it dawned upon him that he would 
never w^alk — that he would be a cripple for life. 

^^Oh! why did I not die? Why was I spared to 
drag out a miserable existence, to be a weight on 
others?” 

Brother, dear, do not repine. God knows what is 
best. ^He afflicts not willingly.’ Infinitely better 


106 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


never to walk one step, and even to suffer for a few 
years, than to be beyond the reach of repentance.’’ 

Oh, yes ; but then to be a burden to others — never 
to enjoy the pleasures of earth.” 

You will be no burden,” replied his father; ‘^and 
everything that can be done will be done to make you 
happy.” 

Oh, father, I do not deserve this kindness ! I have 
brought all this trouble on myself. If I had only 
taken your advice and that of others, how differently 
I would be situated now! I have done so much evil; 
and now, when I have just been laying plans for the 
good I would accomplish in the future, to be deprived 
-of the means, and cast a helpless, suffering cripple on 
the bounty of others. I cannot bear it ! ” 

“ I blame myself, Harry, much for your career. I 
see now, when it is too late, that I have not been 
tender, nor made home as happy as I might have done. 
I thought my ways were best, but I suffer none the 
less keenly now, when I see what a wreck I have 
made. Surely, ‘whatsoever a man sows, that shall he 
also reap.’ Do not let us seek to know the cause of 
this dark providence. ‘Secret things belong unto the 
Lord our God.’ Things we cannot understand let us 
accept as coming from the all-wise Ruler, knowing that 
‘ what we know not now, we shall know hereafter.’ Per- 


IN THE DEEP W A TEES. 


107 


haps this is the very way that God has chosen for you, 
dear Harry, to glorify him most fully. We are always 
disappointed when we mark out our own way. It 
seems to be the will of God, so far as this world is con- 
cerned, that our longings are not satisfied, and that our 
hopes remain unfulfilled. May there not be a gracious 
significance in that thirst with which we thirst, and 
that hunger with which we hunger? Will not the 
fruition of the world to come be all the brighter by 
reason of these earthly disappointments and denials? 
We are always watching and waiting for ships which 
never* come. If we suffer with him, we shall also 
reign with him. It may be yours, dear Harry, to 
bring more glory to God by your suffering, than you 
could by an active service, battling for your King. 
‘He doeth all things, well.’ We must bear the cross, 
if we wear the crown. There is an old poem that 
truthfully says : 

“‘They fought the battle, bore the cross, 

That truth might never suffer loss, 

But, like the tempest-cradled flower. 

Spring through the storm the martyr’s dower. 

Souls that while beckoning the free. 

Sank like a lighthouse in the sea. 

But from their graves a spirit came, 

Uttering words of winged flame : 

No cross, no crown. 


108 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


“ ‘ This be the motto of the brave, 

And this the ^yatchvvord of the slave, 

Tlie patriot’s, with the people’s scorn, 

The martyr’s, with his garland thorn ; 

Whoever seeks to win a name. 

Whoever toils for freedom’s fome, 

Whoever human tears would dry. 

Let this for ever be his cry — 

No cross, no crown.’ ” 

Many long, pleasant talks they had of the blessed- 
ness of that joy, that awaits the blood-redeemed in 
lieaven. As the days wore away, and it became more 
and more certain to Harry that he would never walk 
again, that the injury to his spine was such as would 
render him a sufferer for life, his fiery will was sub- 
dued, and he was made “willing in the day of God^s 
power/’ He stood the long, tedious trip heroically, 
reaching home very much exhausted, but quite cheer- 
ful. Here everything was done for his comfort. An 
easy-chair, that could be rolled around at will, was 
procured for him, and his parents, brother and sisters 
vied with each other in their kind attentions. The 
father was much changed; from the tyrannical task- 
master, to the kind, tender parent. If, at times, his 
old roughness manifested him to be the same man, 
it was on some other member of the family that 
his displeasure fell. Never was Harry the subject 


IN THE DEEP WATERS. 


109 


of his unkindness. The mother and sisters now 
moved about as human beings no longer under 
the iron foot of a slave-master.* They could make 
a suggestion, or prepare a delicacy for the sick- 
room, without being called to account for acting with- 
out permission. On the whole, the home was much 
happier than ever before, regardless of the great 
trouble that had come upon it. When friends would 
come in and lament the calamity that had over- 
taken Harry, his quiet, simple faith assured them that 
he had wells of water from which to draw, of which 
they knew not. He would often speak of the good- 
ness and long-suffering of God, who had sent this afflic- 
tion upon him. 

“I was a lost sheep going astray, but have now 
returned unto the Shepherd and Bishop of my 
soul. Nothing less would do. I had warning after 
warning. My friends advised me, prayed for me. 
Death came and took two lambs from our fold. When 
cast out of my home for my evil doings, my brother 
took me in, fed me, and gave me all I could desire ; 
but I turned from all, and sought the tempting cup. 
I drank ; I fell, in spite of this same brother’s plead- 
ings and prayers. After betraying his trust, and 
leaving him my gambling debts to pay out of his hard 
earnings, I left him, to sink more deeply into sin ; to 


110 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


scoff at all things good and pure ; to deny that the 
same God who lives around us, in us, above us, had an 
existence. Was it not a mercy that God did not leave 
me to perish in my hardness, instead of compelling me 
to stop and think ? I even rebelled against my lot 
and longed to die, but even here God was more mer- 
ciful to me than I was to myself. He did not take 
me away in my sins, but blessed this affliction to my 
soul. It has been good for me that I was afflicted.” 

When asked if he was anxious to be restored to 
health, he replied : 

“ Not if it is God’s will that I should suffer. I have 
no faith in my own strength. I might fall miserably, 
if I had the power. God’s way is the best way. The 
dial takes shades, each points to the sun. 

“ ‘ The shades are many, the sunlight is one. 

Life’s sorrows still fluctuate ; God’s love does not, 

And his love is unchanged when it changes our lot.’ 

‘‘God is able of himself to make us happy. Once 
I thought I could never be happy in this condition 
— to be a cripple, dependent on others, and a con- 
stant sufferer. I thought this calamity the very 
worst thing that could befall me. Now I am happier 
than I ever was before. I believe that if God 
should take away everything from me, and yet give 
me himself, I would be supremely happy. These 


IN THE BEEP WATERS. 


Ill 


days of affliction are my best days. When my days 
are filled with pain, and my sufferings are extremely se- 
vere, then God’s promises are doubly precious. I feel as 
though I can truly say, ‘ Though he slay me, yet will I 
trust in him. He is all my salvation and all my desire.’ ” 

Learning of the intemperate habits of Kalph, 
Goldie’s husband, he talked one whole afternoon to 
him, trying to set before him what would probably be 
the end of his career. 

‘^Dear Ralph, you do not realize the abyss that 
yawns beneath you. Look at me. What made me 
such a wreck? What twisted this form and withered 
these limbs, once so active ? What but strong drink ? 
What causes nearly all the crimes in the land? The 
answer comes back again and again — strong drink. 
You say you can quit drinking if you choose. Oh, 
Ralph ! stop, stop before it is too late. Once I could 
have stopped, too; but there came a time when I could 
not. You say you are not afraid of becoming a con- 
firmed drunkard, yet admit you love the taste of wine. 
This taste will grow on you, and ere you are aware, 
you will be bound hand and foot. You cannot drink 
moderately. You must be a total abstainer or a 
drunkard. Do not look angry. You admit you have 
taken too much on several occasions already. Oh, 
brother, stop and think ; think of a heaven to gain and 


112 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


a hell to shun; think of poor Goldie and the little babe 
you love so dearly ! Do not curse them with your 
intemperate habits. Do not crush, them with this 
monstrous viper you are hugging in your bosom, only 
to strangle you in the end. Cast it out! Sign the 
pledge ! But do not sign it in your own strength, for 
if you do, you will surely fail. Seek and find strength 
from above, and all will be well. You think me an 
enthusiast, but I know something of the drunkard^s 
hell. I know whereof I speak.” 

Kalph grew very angry, and told Harry he would 
not listen to any more such talk. Said he, do not 
intend to sign away my liberty. I can drink when I 
please, and let it alone when I please, as did my 
father before me. I am not the weak puppet for which 
you take me,” and he arose and left in quite a passion. 

It was but a short time after this conversation that 
there was a political meeting in the village, and Ralph 
became so badly intoxicated as to be unable to find 
his way home. Howard found him sitting on the door- 
step of the old tavern. By much coaxing and a little 
forcing he succeeded in getting him home. He was met 
at the door by Goldie. She apologized for Ralph^s 
boisterous language and rough manners by saying he 
had taken some quinine to break the chills that had 
been troubling him. Howard felt sorry for the child- 


IN THE DEEP WATERS. 


113 


wife, who attempted to hide her grief under this false 
cloak. He would have spoken words of pity to her, but 
he plainly saw silence would best heal the wound she 
was trying to conceal. As the husband had fallen into 
a deep sleep which he rightly supposed would last till 
morning, and feeling that his presence was oppressive 
to his sister, he kindly took his leave. This was not 
the first nor the tenth time that Ralph had come home 
in this condition. Even before marriage he had fre- 
quently taken too much. At first Goldie did not un- 
derstand his undue merriment, sound slumber and 
dreadful headaches. Slowly the truth dawned upon 
her. She had reasoned, begged and entreated him to 
leave off his evil ways, but he even denied being in- 
toxicated — would always lay the blame on a severe cold, 
effects of medicine, or anything but whiskey. She had 
hoped when their little babe came, that its soft hand 
might be the means of leading the father back. But, 
alas ! he had started on the wrong road, and no human 
power could stop him in his onward sweep to destruc- 
tion. In the morning she spoke to him of his condi- 
tion the previous night. 

“ I was not drunk. How could I have come home, 
if I had been in the condition you speak of?” 

You did not come home alone. Howard brought 


8 


114 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


“Howard! What had he to say? What business 
had he coming home with me and lying to you?’’ 

“He did not say a single word, but I know from his 
grieved look that he knew where the trouble lay.” 

“And so you told him you knew, too.” 

“No, indeed, Ralph, I was too much mortified. Oh, 
Ralph, if you just would quit drinking, we would be 
so happy. For baby May’s sake, if not for mine, stop 
and consider.” 

“ There was nothing wrong with me. If you do not 
quit troubling me, I will leave the country, and then, 
I suppose, I will have peace. I am tired of being 
watched all the time,” and this great strong man went 
out, congratulating himself that he had shut Goldie’s 
mouth at least. 

For a while he avoided Howard, and he, seeing this, 
did not mention the matter, knowing how little effect 
Harry’s words had made. 

When the bright October days came round, Howard 
found himself entered as a theological student in the 
good old Seminary of Allegheny. The money he had 
received as a prize now became of practical use. This, 
augmented by a small gift from his father, carried him 
through his first winter. He thus had more time to 
devote to his studies than ever before, not being obliged 
to work to support himself, as he had done at college. 


IN THE DEEP WATERS. 


115 


There was another great burden lifted from his mind — 
Harry’s safety. He felt grateful to the good God who 
had answered his prayers for Harry’s conversion — an- 
swered them most fearfully, not as he would have had 
them answered, but as God saw best and most fitting. 
At one time, Howard almost dreaded hearing from 
this brother; now his weekly letters were waited for 
impatiently. They were so full of cheerful resignation 
and joyful gratitude. Not a murmur or impatient 
word. He suffered, as if his sufferings were a blessed 
privilege. More and more, as the days went by, did 
he learn to sit at Jesus’ feet, and count, not his sor- 
rows, but his joys. The only thing that seemed to 
trouble him was Goldie’s trials. He wrote: 

“ If she would only let us sympathize with her, it would be a 
comfort. But she keeps everything locked in her own bosom. 
Woman-like, she tries to hide the serpent that is gnawing at her 
heart. Ralph will make a sad ending, if a merciful Providence 
does not interfere. Dear brother, let us pray for him, as you did for 
me. I think your plan of carrying one or two constantly to the 
throne of God, an excellent one. I feel that I owe my conversion, 
under God, to your prayers. Many times have I been kept from 
sinking deeper in sin by the knowledge that you were praying for 
me.* I used to wonder how you cOuld spare so much time in prayer. 
Now it is my greatest delight. No matter how great my sufferings 
are, prayer acts as a charm, and brings relief. At least, I am 
strengthened to bear my burden, and look up, in faith, to my home 
on high, where there will be no more suffering, and ‘ where God 


116 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


shall wipe away all tears from their eyes/ In the darkest hours, 
the thought that there is no night there brings joyful comfort to my 
soul. O, blessed prayer ! 

“Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire 
Uttered or unexpressed ; 

The motion of a hidden fire 


That trembles in the breast.” 


CHAPTER XI. 


RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 

“Prayer is the contrite sinner’s voice, 
Returning from his ways, 

While angels in their songs rejoice, 
And say, ‘ Behold he prays.’ 

“Prayer is the Christian’s vital breath. 
The Christian’s native air. 

His watch-word at the gate of death. 
He enters heaven with prayer.” 



T was during the holidays, while Howard was home 


in vacation, that there was a grand wedding in the 
village. Dr. Rolb’s daughter wedded a young mer- 
chant of New York, and all the best families in the 
neighborhood were there. Wine was set before the 
guests. It was not long till Howard observed that 
Ralph was drinking freely. He kindly took him aside, 
and told him he was attracting notice. Ralph only 
grew angry, and said he knew what he was doing, and 
could manage his own affairs. He drank deeper and 
deeper, and his hilarity became boisterous. Goldie was 
obliged to appeal to Howard for help, for she saw he 


( 117 ) 


118 


HOWARD ASHTOK 


was annoying the guests. Through much persuasion, 
he was at length placed in the carriage, and Howard 
accompanied them home. Not a word was spoken 
during the drive, butHoward^s quiet care for the com- 
fort of his sister was assurance enough of his sympathy. 
After the now half-unconscious man was made com- 
fortable, Goldie broke down with the exclamation : 

Howard, I can never, never see you again without 
feeling this disgrace. What must I do ? Every per- 
son there saw and knew Ralph^s condition. I heard 
Annie Barton whispering to her cousin, ‘ I think if I 
was that fellow’s wife, I would try to keep him out of 
sight.’ Oh ! the misery of being a drunkard’s wife. I 
wish I could die.” 

Oh, no, dear ! He may yet be redeemed ! Your 
prayers may yet be the means of bringing him back to 
the right path.” 

She shook her head. 

“ If I had only taken your advice, and had him sign 
the pledge before we were married, then he would have 
done it, I believe. Having taken such a step, he would 
have been too honorable to go back. But no, I would 
not listen to you ! I thought it manly to take a glass. 
I even would have wine at my wedding-feast! I 
sacrificed principle to pride, and now I must suffer the 
consequences.” 


RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 


119 

'“There is yet hope. Do not distress yourself so 
with the past. You did not foresee these trials. With 
more knowledge of the world I feared the result of 
playing with the fire. Having seen the effects of 
intemperance so frequently, I have learned to dread it, 
as I would a deadly serpent ; but, dear sister, you have 
my warmest sympathy. I do not blame you for the 
course you pursued. You did it for the best, and now, 
all we can do is to work and pray. God can take away 
the taste of rum, and give strength to resist it. Even 
Ralph may give it up.” 

“ I fear that will never be. He loves it too well. 
For months after our marriage, I kept adding fuel to 
the flame already burning. I have sweetened his 
brandy and carried it to him, when he felt indisposed. 
I had an extra glass of wine ready for him when he 
came home cold and tired. This is one reason I feel so 
much worse. I look back and see what might have 
been. Remorse is a merciless tyrant.” 

“ Do not look back, but look forward and upward. 

^ Forgetting those things which are behind, let us press 
toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God 
in Christ Jesus.’ What you did, you did ignorantly.” 

“Indeed, I did. For a long time after we had 
been in our own home, I did not know this evil 
was coming upon us. I did not understand these 


120 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


violent headaches, but attributed them to natural 
causes. I prepared for him dainties mixed with the 
very curse that was sapping away his very life-blood, 
and my hopes of all future happiness. I have kept my 
secret sacredly. I have guarded it as a miser guards 
his gold. Never have my lips breathed this great 
sorrow. Often, when my heart was breaking, have I 
forced a smile for the purpose of deceiving my nearest 
friends. Now, concealment is useless, my secret is out, 
and I must face this burning disgrace.’^ 

‘‘Poor little sister! heroically have you shielded 
your husband ! bravely have you carried your sorrow ! 
But you have been mistaken, if you suppose your 
friends were not aware of the burden you were carry- 
ing. For months we have known it, and longed to 
help you, but your evident attempt to hide your trou- 
ble kept us from offering our sympathy.” 

“Does father, mother, and all, know this terrible 
shame?” 

“Certainly they do. These things cannot be hidden.” 
“ How they must despise poor Ralph I ” 

“ Not at all. They pity him and you, you know not 
how much. Now that you need not conceal your 
trials, half the weight is lifted. You can come to us 
for help and sympathy. Blessed sympathy ! how can 
the human heart exist without it! We have all been 


RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 


121 


])raying for Ralph, that he may be turned from his 
evil course, and for you, that your trouble may be re- 
moved.” 

‘ Did any of you ever speak to Ralph ? ” 

Harry has had several talks with him. I have 
tried to introduce the subject to him, but he always 
evades it. To Harry, who has suffered in like man- 
ner, he will listen.” 

“ He always denies having taken too much, when I 
speak to him. When you brought him home last fall, 
did you know he was under the influence of wine?” 

‘‘I did. That was why I brought him home. I 
saw he w’as not capable of coming alone.” 

Why did you not speak when I tried to impose an 
untruth upon you ? ” 

“ I respected your secret, and could not bring my- 
self to speak to you, although I felt it to be my duty 
to do so.” 

‘‘Will you not try to influence Ralph now?” 

“ Certainly I will, dear sister, but do not hope that 
my influence will have any weight. Human help, with 
out God’s help, is very weakness. Prayer is our great 
stronghold.” 

“ I have almost lost faith in prayer, and everything 
else.” 

“Do not, do not say so, sister. Do not harbor such 
thoughts.” 


122 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


I used to try to pray, but of late I have grown 
hardened, I suppose. I cannot pray. My prayers are 
never answered.” 

You must liave faith in prayer, and you must not 
give up, if the answer does not come immediately. 
Keep on praying and trusting, and the answer will 
come, sooner or later. Be not weary in well-doing, for 
in due season ye shall reap, if ye faint not. In God’s 
own good time and way he will come to your relief. 
When I was called to see Harry, and we all thought 
' he was very near death, my soul rebelled against God’s 
providence. I had prayed so much for his conversion, 
and felt so sure God would answer my requests, I felt 
unresigned when I saw him dying with his sins all 
upon his soul. How sinful it was to blame the merci- 
ful God for not hearing my prayer ! I tried to pray 
for submission, but I could not for many days. 
When I could do so, I found I had been limiting God 
to send my answer in my own selfish way, and not in 
his own holy way. This very accident, that I so much 
deplored, was the power of God in rescuing him from 
the eternal burning.” 

I know Harry claims to owe his reformation en- 
tirely to your prayers ; but at what a cost were your 
prayers answered ! Look at him — a poor, suffering, 
distorted cripple. What can he do ? Of what use is 
he to the world?” 


RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 


123 


‘•'What use, sister? He has already, through his 
suffering, done more than we all together could have 
done in our whole lives. Just look what a change his 
condition has produced on father. He is no longer 
the harsh, uncompromising man he formerly was, but 
has become a tender, loving father. Harry wants 
for nothing his love or power can provide. Is it 
not enough of joy for one lifetime, to be the means 
of so changing one soul, of making one home happy ? 
We cannot estimate the good this dear afflicted brother 
is doing, in his silent, uncomplaining suffering. Be- 
sides, look at the happiness this stroke has brought to 
himself. Before he was as a lost sheep going astray, 
seeking rest and finding none ; now, his bodily pain is 
nothing compared with the joyful anticipation of the 
unalloyed enjoyment of the life hereafter. Harry 
would not, this day, give up his hope of heaven, for 
the crown of the greatest monarch on earth. Dear 
sister, if you could only realize some of the Christian’s 
joys, how changed would be your feelings in regard to 
this and many other subjects! ” 

‘Hf I could be happy, it would be worth while to 
try; but I have ever felt religion to be such a gloomy 
thing. When Carrie died, I thought I would try 
to be ready, when my appointed time should come, but 
these solemn thoughts soon wore away, and left me 
farther from the kingdom than ever.” 


124 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


‘‘It is now time to return and prepare for life as 
well as death. No matter how great the trials of the 
Christian, all will be well, for, ‘underneath are the 
everlasting arms.’ ” 

In the morning Howard undertook to talk to 
Kalph on the life he was leading. At first he tried to 
evade the naked truth, but Howard told him this was 
useless. 

“ I know what your condition was last night, and 
you do also. We need not waste words on the sub- 
ject. I come to you, dear brother, not to triumph over 
you, but to warn you of your danger.” 

“If I was a little light-headed, I do not think I was 
the only one in a lively mood. I could name several 
very worthy young men, who were just as ‘tipsy’ as I 
was.” 

“So much the worse. If others give way to this 
weakness, so much more reason have you to take warn- 
ing, and sail clear of the shore. You know not how 
and where you are drifting.” 

“Do you expect me just to give up all my pleasures, 
because I happen to take a drop too much?” 

“ If this is your only pleasure, I fear you are build- 
ing on a slippery foundation. When once there is a 
taste for strong drink formed, there is no safety except 
in total abstinence.” 


RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 125 

You must think me very weak, if you think I 
cannot take a dram without taking a gallon. My 
father always kept it, and drank when he chose. 
Who ever saw him the worse for using it ? ” 

“ That is the very rock on which you split. That 
your father has done so, is no proof that you can do 
the same. On the contrary, where one man can so trifle 
with edged tools and suffer no injury, ten will become 
maimed for life, or die violent deaths. Do not stand 
over this yawning abyss any longer. Sign the pledge, 
and give up strong drink forever.’’ 

^^Sign the pledge! Do you suppose I cannot keep 
from drinking, just as well without writing my name 
on a bit of paper ? ” 

^^No, I am sure you cannot. A man will do many 
things, if there is no restraint laid upon him, that he 
would not do, if he had sworn to keep his word. Nor 
is this enough ; even an oath we cannot keep, without 
help from the One who is higher than we. For 
Goldie and baby May’s sake, as well as for your own, 
tkinkj act What is more to be pitied than the drunk- 
ard himself, is the drunkard’s family. He not only 
destroys himself, body and soul, but he destroys the 
peace and happiness of those dependent on him. How 
often does he take the clothes from their backs, the 
food out of their mouths! What for? to purchase the 
poison with which to destroy himself and his victims.” 


126 


HOWAUD ASHTON. 


‘‘Slay! your picture is overdrawn. I guess my 
family will not come to want, while this fine home and 
these broad acres are mine.’^ 

“Many as fine homes as yours have been swallowed 
up in the wine-cup. You have started on a w’ay that 
will carry you headlong to destruction, unless a mer- 
ciful Providence interferes. Oh, stop, stop, and, with 
God’s help, this very day, resolve never more to touch 
one drop of the accursed stuff. I will pray for you, 
and do you pray for yourself. Will you not, dear 
brother? Poor Goldie would be so happy. She has 
carried this burden alone, trying to shield you from 
her friends and the world, long after we all knew her 
sorrow.” 

“ I know she has been faithful, but, Howard, I tell 
you in confidence that had she taken a firm position 
at the time of our marriage, I could easily have for- 
saken my cup. A few times before that I felt I had 
taken too much, and even then the fear was upon me 
that I might in time become a drunkard. Had she 
opposed my course then, I could have quit, but now it 
will be much harder — much harder.” 

“And every hour you delay quenching this thirst, 
the flame increases. Poor Goldie did not know over 
what a volcano she was walking. She knows it now, 
and her remorse only adds to her pain.” 


RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 127 

know it was no fault of hers. I had the taste 
formed in my boyhood. My father used to give me 
a portion when treating his friends. I must quit; you 
are right. I will try to keep from drinking any 
more.” 

“A good resolution, but do not expect to keep it in 
your own strength.” 

“ I would be ashamed of myself, if I could not keep 
my own faith.” 

“ We are all weak, erring mortals. None of us can 
stand alone. Come, sign the pledge just now, while 
you are ready.” 

^‘No! I would be the laughing-stock of the whole 
country. People would say he could not let whiskey 
alone without signing a pledge.” 

Howard went home, feeling thankful he had met 
with even so small success. He told Goldie, but told 
her in fear. He cannot stand alone. Let us pray 
for him constantly.” 

His fears were well grounded, for, before his vaca- 
tion was ended, he learned, to his sorrow, that Ralph^s 
reformation was short-lived. It happened that there 
was a festival in the church in the village, and although 
there was certainly no wine there, yet there was at the 
old tumble-down tavern on the corner. Ralph got in 
company with some fast young men, who urged him 


128 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


to take a glass. At first he refused, but when they 
laughed at his new-fangled notions, he took and 
drained not one, but several glasses. He could not 
stand ridicule. He was soon as boisterous as a drunken 
man could be, and it was not until late that Howard 
succeeded in getting him into his carriage to take him 
home. Goldie followed, with a face as white as 
marble. Howard entered the carriage, intending to 
drive them home, but Ralph seized the lines, and 
could not be persuaded to relinquish his hold. He 
was just enough intoxicated to make him feel capable of 
accomplishing anything. He urged his horses forward ; 
onward, onward they flew, faster and faster. While 
the road was smooth, there was no danger to be ap- 
prehended, but suddenly turning into a rough part, 
the horses became unmanageable, and dashed forward 
at a fearful speed. Howard made another fruitless ef- 
fort to get possession of the reins. They had proceeded 
but a short distance, until the carriage was thrown 
down an embankment, and completely demolished. 
The horses, fortunately breaking loose, continued their 
mad career. Howard was soon on his feet, examining 
the extent of the injuries received by the others. 
‘^Goldie is killed,’^ was his first exclamation. Ralph, 
now thoroughly sobered, tried to rise, but found him- 
self unable. He was soon released from his hampered 


RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 


129 


condition, when he found Goldie had only fainted. 
His own injuries, however, proved to be more serious. 
He could not move without great pain. It was soon 
discovered that his right ankle was dislocated. As 
they were near a farm-house, they had no difficulty in 
procuring a conveyance to take them home. As soon 
as they reached their habitation, a messenger was dis- 
patched for a physician. The doctor, after examining 
his injuries, said, ^‘You will have to lie in bed, my 
young friend, for some time, for your fast driving. 
Sometimes we gain more by driving slowly.” 

Ralph had never before been sick, and fretted much 
over his restraint. Howard talked very kindly to 
him, and urged him to sign the pledge, and look up 
for help to keep it. Harry, who had never left home,, 
except once, when he was carried to church, now in^ 
sisted on being taken to see Ralph, much to the increase 
of his own suffering. 

He implored Ralph to take warning in time, and 
not wait until a worse trouble came upon him. “The 
similarity of the way you and I received our injury, is 
a startling coincidence, if nothing more. You ought 
to be thankful that you are not a cripple for life as I 
am.” 

He seemed very penitent, and said he would try to 
do better. This was not a difficult task, during the 
9 


130 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


weeks he was confined to the house ; but, “ as a dog 
returns to his vomit, so he returned to his evil ways. 
Sometimes weeks would elapse, during which he would 
not touch anything intoxicating. At other times he 
would drink daily. Goldie plead, coaxed and wept; 
but he seemed to go down faster, the more she 
tried to stay him up. To Harry she carried her sor- 
rows. He had suffered in like manner, and she felt 
that he could understand her case the best; but, in all 
her sorrow, she looked not to the Source, whence she 
might expect help and comfort. Sometimes she would 
try to pray, or read a few verses in her Bible, but gen- 
erally God was not in all her thoughts. 

The long summer vacation was now at hand. Wil- 
bur Norris, still a class-mate of Howard’s, returned 
with him to spend a few weeks. Howard had opened 
a select school in the village. It was among the first 
days of Wilbur’s stay, when he saw how much Harry 
would like to do something for the kingdom of the 
Redeemer, that it occurred to him to open a way. He 
soon succeeded in raising quite a nice-sized class of 
boys from the various potteries. They were to meet 
in Harry’s room, every Sabbath afternoon, to study 
the Bible and hear it explained. This now was some- 
thing new, and Harry went to work in earnest. Twice 
in the week he had them spend the evening with him. 


RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 131 

He took such pains that they improved rapidly. One 
by one his class increased, until, when winter came, he 
had as many as his room would accommodate. The 
exercise of the Sabbath-school consisted of singing 
verses of Psalms, selected by the scholars — repeating 
verses of Scripture committed to memory — and a 
short prayer. After singing again, the lesson prepared 
was recited. Then there was a short time given for 
the boys to ask any questions they chose. They 
spent many happy hours together. And there is no 
doubt but that many of these poor, ignorant boys re- 
ceived their first impressions of God and heaven in 
that little, lowly room, far away from life’s busy, noisy 
strife. And this poor cripple boy, sitting, day after 
day, in his lonely chair, or reclining on his weary 
couch, will have more stars in his crown of glory than 
many a world-applauded hero, who made the nations 
ring with the fame of his valor or eloquence. ‘‘ He 
has done what he could.” 

How was Ralph prospering now? Through his 
bad management and evil habits, his property was 
slipping away from him. His fine farm had to be 
sold, and he was obliged to take a more humble home. 
He now bought a nice little cottage in town, and 
opened a dry-goods store. His friends all opposed 
this step, for they saw he would be nearer temptation. 


132 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


He had a beautiful home, a lovely wife, and two dar- 
ling babes — Willie, an infant of a few months, and 
little May, almost a year and a half old. She was 
a child of surpassing loveliness. Even in her baby- 
hood, she had that wise look, which so often betokens 
a short stay on earth. The eyes of heaven’s own blue, 
the alabaster complexion, the soft, silken curls of 
gold, the little rose-bud mouth, and the small dimpled 
chin, united with the unearthly purity which charac- 
terized her outward form, and sweetness of the soul, 
that shone in the baby face, made her the light not 
only of the parents’ eyes, but every one who saw her 
was charmed with her beauty. The fond mother prided 
on dressing her in dainty garments, and watched to see 
people stop in passing and admire her great beauty. 

Goldie, I fear you are making an idol of this 
sweet child,” said her father one day, after he had been 
watching her caresses for some time. ‘‘Take care, 
daughter, or God will take her from your embrace.” 

“ Oh, father, I do not think mothers can love their 
babes too much. God gives them to us to love.” 

“Yes, but not to love more than we do himself. 
He has a right to the first place in our hearts. Is it 
not possible that you are letting this child fill the very 
best place in your heart ? ” 

“ I know I love her very dearly, but God would not 
be so cruel as to take away all I have on earth.” 


RETEOiiTECT AND PROSPECT. 133 

not talk so, Goldie. You have other claims on 
your affection. Your husband, and that dear little 
babe, Willie. He is just as near to you as little angel 
May.’’ 

Just as near, father, and just as dear. If I was 
asked this hour to give one of my jewels up, I could 
not make a choice ; but May is so sweet and beautiful, 
I cannot help watching her : she seems so pure — too 
pure for earth.” 

‘^She is the most lovable child I ever beheld,” said 
the grandfather, tossing her up. Too lovely, I fear, 
to remain here long.” 

‘‘Do not say that,” said Ralph, coming in, and 
reaching for the child. “God does not place anything 
in this world too beautiful to remain in it. Our earth 
is very beautiful.” 

“ But not to be compared to heaven,” replied 
Harry, whom they all supposed was asleep, so quiet 
had he been lying. “ We cannot love the earthly too 
much if we love the heavenly more. ‘Set not your 
affection on things on the earth.’ ” 

“Do not talk in that mournful strain, Harry. I 
cannot bear to think of little May being laid away in 
the cold and silent tomb. She is too sweet to die.” 

“Do not speak so, sister. What could be too sweet 
for heaven? She is a very wise child, and as lovely as 


134 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


she is wise. Let us hope that God will, if he has not 
already done so, cleanse her in the blood of Jesus, and 
preserve her pure, until she is transplanted in the 
heavenly land.” 

So much bound up in this little child was the father, 
that hopes were entertained that she would be the 
means sent from above to draw that father heaven- 
ward. Many times it was her tiny hand kept him from 
seeking less holy companions. 

During Howard’s third winter at the Seminary, he 
was called out one fearful night to see a man in dis- 
tress. This stranger proved to be no other person than 
Addison Moore, the very man who had given him so 
much anxiety on Harry’s account. This man was now 
in jail, but we will let him tell his own story. In 
answer to Howard’s inquiry, How came jou here?” 
he said : 

It is a long story. Sit down while I talk. Do 
not be afraid of these iron bars, and spectral walls. 
You are the person I have wronged above all others, 
and the last one to whom, it might be supposed, that I 
would turn in this darkest hour of my life; but, on the 
contrary, when I was thrown into this prison, you 
were the first and only one I thought of appealing to 
for help. My wicked companions, more wicked even 
than myself, forsook me and fled. I knew you 


RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 


135 


were in the city, and would lend me help, if in your 
power.” 

To be sure, my friend, I will do all in my power 
for you ; but how came you here?” 

How came I here? Well may you ask. After 
the terrible night that Ira Lester met such a death, I 
determined to live a better life. Perhaps you re- 
member I was among the converts that came out and 
were received into the church. I was in earnest then, 
but alas! I soon failed, and ere long I was worse than 
before I had professed religion. I have since been 
leading a very loose life. I came to this city on busi- 
ness for my uncle, but got into bad company, gambled, 
and got into a fight. I was arrested and fined, and 
here I am without one cent of money, for I lost all I 
had. My fine and expenses amount to thirty dollars. 
Will you go my security for this sum for a short 
time?” 

Howard could not refuse, and in the morning the 
sum was paid, as the Mayor would not accept bail, 
and Moore walked forth a free man. 

He spent an hour with Howard, making inquiries 
about Harry, who he supposed was dead, having heard 
of the accident, and thought it had been fatal. He ex- 
pressed great relief when he learned Harry’s life had 
been spared. 


136 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


** 1 always felt that I was in a measure accountable 
for his death, as I was the cause of his leaving col- 
lege. I am sorry to hear, however, that he is a con- 
stant sufferer. Life must be very gloomy to him, poor 
fellow.” 

I wish you could see him. He is the happiest 
Christian I ever saw. He says his sufferings are 
sweet, when he thinks of the glory there is in store for 
him. Ah ! his bright Christian experience is worth a 
lifetime of suffering. I reckon that our present suf- 
ferings are not worthy to be compared to the glory that 
will be revealed.” 

Oh ! how I wish I could reach such a state of per- 
fection, but ^ all unprotected, lo, I stand,’ ” answered 
the young man. 

“Jesus will not leave you unprotected, if you put 
your trust in him.” 

“ I am so weak. I wish I could put my trust in 
One able to save, but I cannot. The more I try to 
do right, the deeper I sink in sin. I will never be ^ 
anything but a poor, miserable drunkard. I often 
think society would be rid of a nuisance if I would 
end my useless life.” 

“ Do not dare to take the life God has given you. 
Would you go before your Maker with such a sin 
upon your naked soul ? For this sin there is no for- 


RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT, 


137 


giveness, for there is no repentance. Cling to the 
Cross, and cast such thoughts far from you. Pray to 
be delivered from them.” 

Here these two young men parted, never to meet 
again. Moore did not forget to send the money to 
Howard — the money that took him from his iron cell, 
and along with it came a nice present and many 
thanks. We are sorry to say this incident did not 
have a lasting effect on this misguided boy. He went 
on in his mad career, and several years afterward died a 
violent death while fleeing from the officers of justice. 
“ The way of transgressors is hard.” 


CHAPTER XII. 


GONE UP HIGHER. 

“ She is not dead, but sleepeth.’ 

“On the bosom of the Shepherd, 

In the realms of endless day, 

Rests our lamb, our loved, our treasure, 

Happy little bright-haired May.” 

ABY MAY was dead! The golden sun streamed 



in at the half-closed window, and the little song- 
birds warbled their morning lays, but they waked her 
not — she was dead ! Fold the little hands over the 
still heart; there is no more work for them to do! 


Close the eye-lids tenderly above the now dimmed 
eyes. No more will they smile lovingly upon you. 


She is dead ! No more will the patter of little feet 
break the stillness of your dreams. No more will the 
little voice come in sweet accents to cheer your lonely 
moments! No more will the little form nestle in your 
bosom, warming your very heart! She is dead! Ah! 
no, fond father, weeping mother, she is not dead ; she 


( 138 ) 


GONE UP HIGHER. 


139 


is only sleeping ! She has only gone up higher. Far 
above the starry sphere baby May yet lives, free from 
all suffering, pain and sorrow ! Far above the reach 
of storms and tempests, behold your darling ! Would 
you call her back to earth and weeping? Would you 
have her angel feet tread the thorny paths your feet 
have trod? “Not lost, but gone before.” Would you 
have her pure, unsullied life stained with sin, and made 
vile like those around you ? Could you be carried to 
heaven’s choir, there to behold your child, and urge her 
to return, doubtless she would dip her little pinions 
in the river of life, and fly away to the tree in the 
midst of the Throne, and sing, “Unto him who hath 
loved us and washed us from our sins in his own 
blood, be praise, honor and glory forever.” 

There — there is no more sighing, no more pain, no 
more weary watching, no more sleepless nights, no 
more anxious days, no more heart-aches, no more sin- 
burdened souls, for “old things have passed away, and 
all things have become new.” 

However much we feel that our neighbors and 
friends should not grieve over the early-called, we can- 
not realize that in our own case God’s ways are best; 
so it was with these parents. Little May’s clothes 
caught fire, and although rescue was at hand, she was 
so badly burned that in twelve hours she breathed her 
last. 


140 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


Not one of her beautiful hairs was singed, and her 
lovely face was not in the least disfigured. But her 
little breast and limbs were terribly burned. Her 
sufferings were great, but she bore them so patiently 
that it was no wonder the parents were overwhelmed 
with grief at this severe blow. To see the little one 
sufier, and feel that more constant care might have 
prevented the accident, was almost too much for hu- 
man hearts to bear. The mother, in particular, laid 
all the blame on her own carelessness. No amount of 
reasoning could change her mind. She could not take 
the view that the accident was a providence sent by 
God, just as sickness and death are sent. 

‘Hf she had only taken sick and died, I could have 
become reconciled,’^ she cried. 

“No, sister,” Howard answered ; “if she had been 
taken sick, and you had been permitted to minister 
to her wants, and know that everything was done to 
save her life, you would have been just as loth to give 
her up as you are now. You would have felt that 
your trouble could not have been greater. Such weak 
creatures are we, that we ever think, could we carry 
some other burden than that appointed, we could en- 
dure it better. AVe make our own weak wisdom 
greater than that of the Omnipotent God, when we 
would have it other than God has willed. 


GONE UP HIGHER. 


141 


** * J udge not the Lord by feeble sense. 

But trust him for his grace ; 

Behind a frowning providence 
He hides a smiling face. 

“ ‘ His purposes will ripen fast, 

Unfolding every hour : 

The bud may have a bitter taste, 

But sweet will be the flower. 

“‘Blind unbelief is sure to err, 

And scan his work in vain ; 

God is his own interpreter, 

And he will muke it plain.’” 

“ O Howard ! you know not a mother^s heart, when 
you say this blow is not harder to bear than sickness 
and death. There is remorse gnawing at my heart. 
I should have watched her better.^’ 

I know it would not have been so hard, could you 
have known this greater trouble; but not knowing it, 
you would not have been any more willing to give your 
treasure up to God. My heart aches for you, dear 
sister. We all feel the death of this little one very 
much. She was so lovely, so angelic, so intelligent, far 
beyond her years ! We feel that God has taken the very 
choice lamb of the flock — the most rare flower of the 
garden, and we cannot now see why or wherefore. I 
know, too, that the mother^s sorrow is the deepest on 


142 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


earth, and words to comfort are vain. You feel like 
Job, ^Miserable comforters are ye all.’ In time peace 
will come, but just now the heart is torn and bleeding. 
Only Jesus knows how to heal a soul distressed. But 
do not, do not allow yourself to take the heavy weight 
of blaming yourself out of God’s hands. He hath done 
it, we know not why, but what we know not now we 
shall know hereafter. You could not foresee this event, 
nor could I. Dangers beset us on the right hand and 
on the left. Thousands of accidents of which we never 
dream might befall us on all sides. In how many dif- 
ferent ways does God take us out of the world, and 
from how many things that might cause our death 
does he protect us! In the Ninety-first Psalm — that 
psalm that has been my comfort through so many 
trials — we have so much said of God’s watchful care, 
that we should never doubt his presence and provi- 
dence. Let us take this blow as coming from God, 
knowing that it is the Father’s hand that holds the 
rod, and ‘ Whosoever the Lord loveth he chasteneth, 
and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth.’ There is 
some wise purt)ose in this affliction. Perhaps the con- • 
version of a soul, or drawing father, mother or friends 
nearer heaven. Many a child who has just opened its 
eyes on earth, and then closed them forever, has ac- 
complished more than hoary-headed Christians who 


GONE UP HIGHER. 


143 


have spent a whole lifetime in God’s service. Now, 
that you have a darling child in heaven to welcome 
you, is there not more to draw your alfections toward 
that happy place?” 

“Ralph says he cannot live without her. She had 
so much influence over him. He has not been drink- 
ing so much since there has been an angel in the 
house, I trusted, too, that it was she, who, as she 
grew older, would draw him from his evil course.” 

“The disciples of our Saviour said, ‘ We trusted that 
it had been he who should have redeemed Israel,’ not 
knowing that his death was the crowning act of the 
great redemption they so much desired. So it may 
be in your case, dear sister. As little May has on earth 
been the magnet drawing him homeward, so may she 
still be in her home above, drawing him heavenward, 
*Not a sparrow falls to the ground without our 
Father.’ Are ye not of more value than many spar- 
rows? Has little May passed so suddenly out of the 
present life without his care?” 

“I am beginning to see that God’s hand was in it 
all, and I trust in time to be able to say, ‘God’s will, 
not mine, be done.’ ‘ The Lord gave, and the Lord 
hath taken away ; blessed be the name of the Lord !’ I 
know baby May is happy. I know she will never be 
called to suffer as I have suffered. I know, too, she 


144 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


would not return to earth, after having once tasted the 
joys of heaven ; but I am so selfish, I would have her 
back. I miss her so much, and will miss her as the 
days go by. Everything will remind me of her. Her 
toys and playthings lying just where she left them. 
Poor little Willie misses her, too. He asked me this 
morning what made sister sleep so long. Poor little 
fellow; he cannot understand that many a morning 
will pass, ere he will hear her loving voice. ‘ So He 
giveth his beloved sleep.’ ” 

“ Oh, not in cruelty, not in wrath, 

The reaper came that day ; 

An angel visited the green earth 
And took that flower away.” 

Friends came to mingle their tears with those of 
the bereaved family, when little May was laid to rest. 
Mr. Brown, who had been the friend and counsellor 
of the family in all their troubles, now spoke comfort- 
ing words from the tender text, She is not dead, but 
sleepeth.” 

“Asleep in Jesus, blessed sleep, 

From which none ever wakes to weep.” 

The last look was taken — the coffin was closed, and 
the clods rattled on the lid, just as they had done hun- 
dreds of times before, and will continue to do, until the 
end of time. Back to the lonely house where everything 


GONE UP HIGHER. 


145 


serves to remind them of the loved and lost, the 
sorrowing parents returned. The little garments, now 
no longer needed, are folded and laid carefully away. 
The little half-worn shoes and red stockings, those she 
had on when she was burned, are laid in the best place 
in her own little drawer. The playthings, too, now 
sacred in the eyes of fond affection, find a place with 
the other treasures. No • place is too good for the 
relics of little bright-haired May. The tears of love 
will water the roses on her grave. The winds will 
blow, and "the storms will beat over her resting-place, 
but they cannot wake the little sleeper. She heeds 
not the sunshine, the birds, or Ihe flowers ! To her, 
night and day are the same. Dream on, little sleeper! 
how much of lifers sorrow and sjiffering you have 
escaped ! How many years of joy and glory you have 
gained! Your victory is won, without the battle! 
Your crown is sure, without struggling with earth’s 
storms and tempests. 

What a void the death of this little one, only three 
years old, left in the hearts of her sorrowing friends! 
Doubtless this sorrow was for the best, but the pa- 
rents’ hearts were too sore to heed it. So we all feel 
when trouble overtakes us. We cannot realize that 
our great trials are all for the best — at least not just at 
the present. Light comes to us sooner or later, but 
10 


146 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


just now we do not feel able to bear it ; our eyes are 
heavy with weeping, and the light hurts them ; we beg 
to stay in the dark. This is the human side. There 
is a divine side. There is a trust so complete that it 
never wavers, even in the darkest hours. There is a 
faith so sublime it forgets to reason ; so far-reaching, 
it ends only in heaven. With this faith, this trust, 
comes a submission that knows no will but that of the 
Master^s — that never murmurs, never complains — that 
cries, Lead thou me on ; one step’s enough for me.” 

We must get very close to heaven, if we would be 
above the clouds; if we would dwell in eternal sun- 
shine.” 

It seems to be only through the furnace of affliction 
that this high standard of earth-life is to be attained. 
There is so much of this world’s dross in every heart 
that only Jive can purify. Without these trials, that 
are continually drawing us to the skies, our lives 
would be barren and bare. The Master would come 
seeking fruit, and find only leaves. 

“ Nothing but leaves, 

No garnered sheaves 

Of life’s fair, ripened grain ; 

Words, idle words, for earnest deeds; 

We sow our seeds — lo ! tares and weeds; 

We reap, with toil and pain, 

Nothing but leaves!'* 


CHAPTER XIIL 


CLOUDS THICKEN. 


“ When whiskey is in, wit is out.” 



WO years have passed since they laid little May 


among the daisies. The grass is now green on 
her grave, but the bouquet of flowers, kept there by the 
hand of affection, is never allowed to fade when 
flowers are to be had. A little marble cradle and slab 
mark her resting-place; but the loving mother^s heart 
needs this not to know where her cherished dead lies. 
Another little girl now fills a place, but not the place of 
little May. Little Helen is a sweet babe, with large, 
mournful, brown eyes and curly hair, but she is like 
other children, more earthly than was the first-born. 
The death of this little one was the life of the mother, 
for from this time she dated her new life of faith. The 
great grief that first overwhelmed her gave way by 
degrees to a true reconciliation to God’s way of dealing 
with her. The God of her babe became a very present 
help in time of trouble. As the days went by, she 


( 147 ) 


148 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


prayed and hoped that the seeming reformation of her 
husband might be true and permanent. Many anx- 
ious eyes were upon him ; many earnest prayers were 
put up in his behalf, and many faithful talks did 
friends now have with him. For a while all went well, 
but alas! he tasted, and tasting fell. He drank to 
drown his sorrow, and then drank to hide his disgrace. 
He drank deeper than ever before. His business was 
neglected, his customers forsook him, and ruin stared 
him in the face*. He was obliged to mortgage his 
property, and creditors seized his goods. Now he was 
scarcely ever sober. Finally he went to Pittsburgh, 
for the purpose of settling some bills there. When he 
did not return at the time appointed, his friends be- 
came very anxious about him. Several days passed, 
and yet he did not come. Goldie became so dis- 
tressed, and fearing he had been dealt with foully, per- 
suaded his own father to go in search of him. On 
reaching the city, he found he had lifted the notes, pay- 
ing the money. He found a trace of him at the sta- 
tion, where an acquaintance had met him very much 
intoxicated. Nothing further could the father learn, 
although he spent two whole days in the search. He 
had to return to the distracted wife with no news of the 
missing one. This was the hardest blow that ever fell 
yet. All her former trouble^ even the death of her 


CLOUDS THICKEN. 


149 


child, paled before this terrible stroke. That was 
sorrow for the dead ; this for the living. She loved 
her husband devotedly, in spite of all his faults, and 
now what could she think? Had he gone off and left 
her ? or was he lying sick and helpless, unable to re- 
turn, with no one to care for him? Perhaps in some 
moment of delirium he had met a violent death. Her 
only support now was God. Had he not been her 
refuge, she surely would have fainted beneath her 
heavy burden. Friends came to her with words of 
sympathy, but she heard them not; even her little 
children failed to arouse her. In a few weeks word 
was received that he had been seen in Wheeling, sup- 
posed to have been looking for a situation. Now that 
he was not dead, she felt in some measure relieved ; 
but oh! why did he leave her thus? What had she 
done to cause him to act so cruelly? Some would try to 
console her by telling her she was so much better off with- 
out him. But he was her husband still. When others 
blamed, she pitied. She felt sure he had been enticed 
away, for he had never abused her, only as intemperance 
made him careless and improvident. Creditors now 
rushed in and took what little they had ; even their 
furniture had to go. 

Goldie took her little ones and went back to her 
father’s house, which she had left just six years before. 


150 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


the happy bride of a wealthy husband. A long course 
of sickness followed. Much of the time she was mer- 
cifully unconscious. At first the old doctor said she 
must die; but trouble never kills, and after several 
weeks she was again able to walk around, still not her 
former self. 

Howard caused carefully worded advertisements to 
be inserted in the daily papers, thus hoping to hear 
something of the fugitive, but all in vain. They had 
almost given up ever hearing from him again, w’hen 
one day, about four months after his mysterious dis- 
appearance, Goldie received a letter in his well-known 
handwriting. She tremblingly opened it, and learned 
of his wanderings. He stated that he had spent in 
drink all the money he had left after discharging his 
debts. He took a ticket for home, but, being intox- 
icated, fell asleep, and was carried past the station. He 
had some recollection of being put off the train, be- 
cause he had not money to pay his fare. 

When he came to his senses, he found himself a 
wanderer in the city of Wheeling, without friends or 
money. His thoughts then were to find work and 
travel on to the West. He was ashamed to return 
home, and he only thought of getting farther and 
farther away, hoping his friends at home would think 
him dead. He succeeded in working his way on a 


CLOUDS THICKEN. 


151 


boat to Louisville, He there found work and good 
wages, which he spent as fast as he earned them, trying 
to drown his shame and loneliness in the flowing bowl. 
Of late his yearnings for home and friends, for wife and 
children, had become so unendurable, that he had deter- 
mined to write to Goldie, and throw himself on her 
mercy. Could she forgive him, and permit him to re- 
turn ? He promised he would sign the pledge and quit 
drinking — would do anything, if she would only trust 
him again. Goldie was almost beside herself with joy. 
Ralph was coming home, never to drink again. She 
could scarcely wait till her letter would reach him. 
In fancy she watched him reading her tender, loving 
words, telling him of her suffering and anxiety on his 
account, and how happy she would be when he came 
back. She wondered why everybody was not rejoicing 
wdth her. Her father was opposed to her leaving home 
again. He had no faith in Ralph^s reformation. He 
thought he should be put on probation a while at least. 
All the gold in the world could not have hired her to 
reproach the husband who had so shamefully treated 
her. She was his wife, and if she could not forgive 
and forget, who could? So he came, and was wel- 
comed by all. Goldie could not do enough for his 
comfort. He was very humble and penitent, and 
made many fair promises. He rented a small house, 


152 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


and, with his father’s help, furnished it plainly. He 
secured a place as clerk in Mr. Tompkins’ store at a 
small salary. He signed the pledge and went reg- 
ularly to church. For a while his friends were grat- 
ified. His evenings were spent at home, cultivating his 
garden, training vines, and doing many other little 
chores, which he found needed his care. 

It was in the latter part of October, several months 
after his return, that the peace of this little family was 
again broken. Goldie waited her dainty supper a 
half-hour, an hour, two hours, but still the one she 
looked for did not come. Willie was sent in search 
of him, but he could not be found. What a nameless 
dread settled down in the young wife’s heart ! Could 
he again have sought the wine-cup? Certainly not. 
He must have stepped into some friend’s house to talk, 
or take tea. But even as she said this her heart mis- 
gave her, and when a half-hour later he came in with 
a flushed face and fiery eye, she knew too well that 
the tempter had been successfully at work. He 
played with the children, and tried to hide his condi- 
tion — said he had met a friend, and was a little behind 
time for tea. Goldie’s quiet, tearful face told him that 
she was well aware of what had detained him. He 
had indeed met an old friend, who proved to be an 
enemy ; for with his many soft words, he induced him 


CLOUDS THICKEN, 


153 


to take a dram, and so break his oath and his wife’s 
heart with one glass of rum. Gently the poor wife 
expostulated with him, begging for his own sake, for 
hers, and for the children’s, to renew his pledge, and 
with God’s help, try again. This he would not do. 
Having broken his pledge, he would not sign again. 
Having given way once, it was easy to do so again. 
He did not drink constantly, but every little while he 
came home sufficiently under the influence of strong 
drink to become cross and irritable. 

His evenings again were spent away from home, and 
if he attended church, it was only occasionally. Friends 
remonstrated with him, but all in vain. Temptation, 
as a strong man armed, had taken hold of him, and 
was dragging him headlong to destruction. 

Let us turn for a while to more })leasant subjects. 
We will leave poor Goldie sighing, as she repeats, ‘‘ My 
hopes are vanished. I have nothing to be thankful 
for.” 

“Ah, no ! we forget our thanksgiving, 

Our praises are feeble and few, 

When the garner and cruse are exhausted 
Our gleanings have failed to renew ! 

When the wind that hath blown us ill-fortune 
Wafts our neighbor’s rich ship to the shore, 

We fail for kis gains to be thankful, 

And only our losses deplore I 


154 


HOWARD ASHTON, 


It is well when the harvest is over ; 

It is well, when the vintage is done, 

To thank the dear Lord of the vineyard 
For the shadow as well as the sun ! 

For the winter that follows the autumn. 
With tempest, and rigor, and night. 
When we sit in the blackness of darkness, 
And remember the blessing of light I ” 


CHAPTER XIV. 


EDUCATION COMPLETED. 

“ Go, work to-day in my vineyard.” 

YEAR before the events recorded in our last 



chapter, Laura Ashton had become the wife of 
Wilbur Norris, Howard^s great friend. A beautiful 
boy, named Harry, after the much-loved brother, 
now occupied a place in the household. Though only 
a few weeks old, Wilbur supposed him to be a most 
remarkable boy. 

Wilbur was now pastor of a small Mission Church 
in Philadelphia. Though few in number, they were an 
earnest people, and with a man like their new pastor 
to lead, they bid fair to become a great power in the 
city. No labor was too great for Wilbur, if he felt 
sure that good would result from his efforts. He had 
an excellent companion in Laura. She was not only 
a model wife and mother, but an excellent member of 
society, and a woman who had moral courage to do her 
duty, at all times, and under all circumstances. 

Harry’s health had not improved in the passing 


( 165 ) 


156 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


years. Of late, his sufferings were much increased. 
His face, though pale and thin, bore that look of sweet 
resignation so seldom seen on earth. Often, now, he 
was unable to leave his bed for days together. His class, 
during these weary days of pain, would come as usual, 
and read each a few verses to the invalid. Through 
his instrumentality, his class had grown to be quite 
a large Sabbath -school, and had to be transferred to the 
church. His first class clung to him. They loved 
him very dearly. Many a little thing they denied 
themselves, in order to bring something to their dear 
teacher. An orange, an apple, a flower, anything they 
thought he would appreciate. Had not he done much 
for them ? He had taken them in their ignorance, 
and made them respectable members of society. Nor 
was this the only thing he had done for them. He 
had taught them the story of the Cross, and more than 
one of them had found the Saviour, and were now re- 
joicing in that Saviour’s smiles. 

Some of these very boys could not read, when they 
first entered his class. They brought others, who 
never went to church or school ; either because they 
were too indolent, or too ignorant. Mr. Brown often 
remarked, that Harry had done more for the place, 
than all the ministers combined. He said no matter 
what trouble, anxiety, or distress of mind he was in. 


ED VC A TION COMPLETED. 


157 

he was always sure of the prayers of this young disci- 
ple. He was consulted both by the young and old, 
rich and poor, high and low. '^None knew him but to 
love.” If he was deprived of much pleasure, he yet 
had a great deal to make him happy. We will quote 
from a letter written to his twin-brother, just when he 
had completed his course: 

“ Twenty years ago, or even ten, who would have thought that our 
lives would have been so divided ? Twin-brothers. One to go forth 
to proclaim the everlasting gospel to perishing sinners, and to lead 
an active, useful life, and enjoy the society of the good and pure : 
The other to lie on his bed of pain, accomplishing so little for his 
Master, because every effort is made at the cost of his own suffering. 
Do not think I am complaining of my lot, or finding fault with that 
merciful Providence, who sent this chastisement upon me, to save 
me from myself — to save me from the drunkard’s hell. On the 
contrary, I bless his great name, who did not cast me off entirely. 
Still, I cannot but think, how different my life might have been, 
had I lived according to the light and opportunity afforded me. 
Why did I not start fair in life, and keep pace with you ? I can- 
not help regretting my sinful, wicked course. But I try to forget 
the past, as it cannot be recalled ; and I know it is wrong to waste 
time speculating on what might have been. So far as my own 
happiness is concerned, I do not think I could be happier, were I 
enjoying perfect health. This wondrous love of Jesus ! When I 
think of all he has done, and is still doing for me, I wonder I can- 
not persuade the whole world to come and accept and enjoy this 
great salvation. I would not exchange places with the greatest 
monarch on earth. . . . 


158 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


“Mj crown, I know, will not fade when all earthly crowns and 
diadems crumble into dust. I do not desire that God would lift 
his rod from me, for fear I might lose some of the joys and comforts 
which I feel is a foretaste of heaven. My only wish is to do more 
for Jesus. So many are perishing around us, and so little is being 
done, to bring sinners home to God. Methinks, the minister of 
God, who faithfully does his duty, will wear the brightest stars in his 
‘ crown of glory.’ 

“ You, brother, are just entering on your life’s work. What a 
glorious future is before you ! The world is ready for the harvest, 
and God’s servants are few. Work and pray, for your responsibility 
is great. Do not get discouraged, for even one soul is worth the 
whole world ; but, in your zeal, do not over-work yourself. So 
many young ministers, when they first begin their labors, neglect 
their health and are soon disabled, and obliged by sickness to 
keep their rooms. Or, perhaps, death calls them from a place in 
which they are needed very much. A useful life needs to be a 
healthy one. 

“ That you may have much success in your calling and win many 
souls to Christ, and be afforded a joyful entrance into that home, 

‘ not made with hands, eternal in the heavens,’ and there receive 
the welcome plaudit, ‘Well done, thou good and faithful servant; 
thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler 
over many things ; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord,’ is the fer- 
vent, heartfelt prayer of your brother.” 


CHAPTER XV. 


PASTORAL WORK. 

"Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee.” 

“ Though his wise and loving purpose, 

Clearly yet thou mayst not see, 

Still believe with faith unshaken. 

All will work for good to thee. 

Therefore, when thy way is gloomy. 

And thy eyes with tears are dim. 

Straight to God, thy Father, hastening. 

Tell thy sorrow all to him.” 

OWARD had completed his course, and was 



now settled over a thriving congregation, in the 
western part of Ohio. As there was strife among 
-the members of this church, they had been without a 
pastor for several years. The call extended to the 
young minister was not so unanimous as he would 
have desired, but there was no decided opposition. 
Two elements were striving for mastery. The feud 
had existed for many years. The last pastor had left 
the field on this account. Howard scarcely knew his 
duty under the circumstances. Polder Carson, one of 


(1591 


160 


HOWARD ASHTON, 


those good, unselfish men, who have the churches best 
interest at heart, said to him, the evening after his 
ordination, son, you have this day taken upon 

you vows tliat you will find hard to fulfill. You will 
find strifes and backbitings — many trying to rule; but 
do not be discouraged. That very Forty-sixth Psalm, 
which we sung to-day, is full of precious promises, in 
all times of trouble: 

‘ God ia our refuge, and onr strength^ 

In straits, a present aid ; 

Therefore, although the earth remove, 

We will not be afraid.’ 

With God as a refuge you need not fear what man 
can do. Do not try to please any but God, and you 
will succeed. These bickerings will melt away, and all 
will be forgotten in the love of our dear Saviour.” 

The first day after settlement, he preached from the 
words, I ask, therefore, for what intent ye have sent 
for me.” He felt his subject, and spoke with great 
earnestness. He was a lover of good music, and the 
poor singing in his congregation annoyed him. He 
proposed to liold meetings, once a week, in order to 
})ractice good church music. These meetings were 
usually well attended. All the young people took an 
active interest in them. Soon a great improvement 


PASTORAL WORK, 


161 


was noticeable. Some twenty of the best singers were 
selected as leaders, and the Songs of Zion, that had 
been the sport of many outsiders, were now sung with 
melody as well as with the understanding. 

I don’t like this singing business,” said old Deacon 
Biggs. There is a little too much ‘ tomfoolery ’ about 
it for me.” 

“Why,” replied Howard, “is there not quite an 
improvement in the music ? ” 

“ Too much — too much ! It is more like a theatre 
than a church. Why, all the young folks in town are 
coming to church, just to hear the singing.” 

“We want to make our church attractive. We 
want the young folks, and the old, too, to come in and 
worship with us.” 

“I have no objection to their coming, just to wor- 
ship; but I do not like to see them there to listen to 
the music.” 

“ Singing is a part — a very important part — in the ser- 
vice of God. I believe there are as many conversions 
from good singing as good praying and preaching. If 
they only come to sing, they remain to pray, and may 
not a word sown in weakness ‘ be the power of God 
and the wisdom of God ’ in bringing some lost soul 
home?” 

“You may like it, but I like the good old music, 
11 


162 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


when people did not sing by rw/e, but every one sung 
as he pleased. I was clerk in this very church for 
twenty years. Many a day have I lined out in the 
good old days, when they only lined one line ac a time. 
I think lining out the most solemn way yet.” 

Another old man objected to the choir. He con- 
tended that it was not a true choir. ‘Ht only con- 
tained twenty, and it takes twenty-four to make a 
quire !” 

Nevertheless, the singing was a success, and the 
preaching likewise. A few months after settlement, at 
the first communion season, no less than twenty-eight 
persons were received as new members of the church. 
Howard prayed as well as worked. He established 
prayer-meetings in different parts of the congregation, 
with one for all in the church on Wednesday evenings. 
This evening was the most enjoyable of all. Just one 
hour was spent in the service, which consisted entirely of 
yolqntary exercises — no one to occupy more than three 
n^inutes at a time. A short prayer, a verse of Scrip- 
ture, a word, a thoqght, a few verses of a psalm to be 
sung. At first scarcely a word was uttered, but diffi- 
dence and embarrassment wore away, and one after 
another found a voice to utter what the heart felt. 

The young pastor at times became very much dis- 
couraged. He could not understand thp coldness, the 


PASTORAL WORK. 


163 


lack of enthusiasm, manifested on the part of his pa- 
rishioners. Many hours of distress he spent on his 
knees in his closet, pleading for more faith and pa- 
tience. So burdened did his soul become with the 
responsibility resting on him, that he spent whole 
nights in prayer for God’s reviving power, for his 
rich blessing on his own poor labors. After one Sat- 
urday night spent in prayer, he went to church, feel- 
ing that he could not preach. He had not given the 
usual time and attention to his sermon, for all week he 
could only pray. The words of his text were, Choose 
ye this day whom ye will serve.” During the opening 
exercises he felt as though he would surely fail, and 
even when he read his text, the burden of doubt still 
oppressed his soul. In his distress he offered a silent 
petition for help. Soon his own burdens were for- 
gotten. He heeded not the eyes upon him, many 
of them ready to criticise every word. He only knew 
he was a messenger sent from heaven — a dying man 
speaking to dying men. He felt that the present was 
the only time he was authorized to offer the privilege 
of choosing a Redeemer. To-morrow it might be too 
late. All eyes turned upon him. There was no 
whispering, sleeping or gazing around, as was some- 
times the case. Many eyes filled with tears, and many 
warm pressures of the hand did he receive, as he left 


164 HOWARD ASHTON. 

the church from those whose hearts were too full to 
speak. One young man, the leader of the choir, who 
had been a special object of prayer and solicitude, 
whispered in his ear, I have chosen.’’ Thank 
God,” fell from the pastor’s lips. ‘^Go home and 
pray for the other members of your choir.” 

Seeking his own chamber, he dropped upon his 
knees, with a prayer of thanksgiving. The cloud was 
brightening, and he hoped soon to see it lifted, and find 
many seeking the road to heaven. That night he 
preached from the words, ^^As for me and my house, 
we will serve the Lord.” When he closed, he re- 
quested any who were troubled in soul to remain for 
a short time. Three besides young Harper stayed. 
This was the beginning of a great revival, not only in 
Howard’s church, but in all the churches in town. 
Some of the old men, among whom was Deacon Biggs, 
did not like these meetings mixing up with other de- 
nominations. He said it was a foolish excitement 
which would soon die out. However, he found his 
own soul warming with the love of Jesus, who knows 
not his children by denominations, but by their faith- 
ful walk and conversation. 

Mrs. Mays, who tried to keep the reins of the 
church in her hands, as she w^as the widow of a min- 
ister, remarked : 


PASTORAL WORK. 


165 


If these things go on as they have been going for 
a week or two, it will be very hard to tell whether our 
church is composed of first-class people or of the trash, 
I see many of the ^ lower-ten/ I might say, coming in 
and sitting as though they had the right/^ 

These and other wicked and silly remarks, which 
were carried to Howard’s ears, he forbore to notice, 
feeling that it was God he had to deal with, and not 
poor, weak, erring men and women. ^‘God is my 
refuge ; I will not fear what man can do.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 


DOINGS AND SAYINGS. 

“Many aim at nothing, and hit it.” 

YEAR had now elapsed since Howard had ac- 



ceptcd the pastorate of Easton Church. By 
careful economy he had saved enough from his modest 
salary to furnish the parsonage in a neat but humble 
manner, and he was about to bring his bride to the 
cottage. The congregation was pleased to learn that 
their pastor was about to occupy the little nook in- 
tended for the family of the minister. To be sure, 
Mrs. Mays had used her utmost endeavors to secure 
him for her daughter Mellie, who, she assured him, 
was just sweet sixteen. But many knew it was twenty 
years since she was born. Several other mammas who 
had marriageable daughters would not have objected to 
him as a son-in-law ; but now, of course^ were glad he 
had found a wife to assist him. 

If I had not known that he was engaged,” said 
Mrs. Wilson, I would not have had him visit us so fre- 


(166) 


DOINGS AND SAYINGS. 


167 


quently; but as he boarded at niy brother’s, of course 
he seemed like one of the family. I would be very 
sorry to see one of ray daughters marry a minister. 
Their wives are slaves. The eyes of the whole 
congregation are upon them. They are scarcely free 
moral agents.” 

You may well say they are slaves, as far as hard 
labor goes,” replied Mrs. Mays; but a minister’s wife 
is, or ought to be, the happiest woman in the world. 
Just look at the vast amount of good she has the power 
of doing. She is a leader of so many, and if she does 
her duty, she cannot fail to win both love and respect. 
I know something of the joys of a minister’s wife, as 
well as her sorrows. Dr. Mays used to say I had more 
influence over his people than he had himself.” 

“Influencing them one way, while he was trying to 
influence them another,” whispered Betty Brown, her 
nearest neighbor. “ I have heard it said that she al- 
ways kept up such a fuss in his church, that he could 
not stay any time in a place. Poor man ! Death 
came mercifully to his relief.” 

“ I would not care about a daughter of mine mar- 
rying Mr. Ashton at any rate,” said Mrs. Mays. 

“Why? why?” asked sevwal voices. 

“Oh, indeed! I suppose I should not have men- 
tioned it. I believe it is a secret. I will say no 


more. 


168 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


‘^You must tell, since you have excited our curi- 
osity. We will think it is something dreadful, if you 
do not. Come, let us hear,’’ said one of the ladies. 

Well, I did hear, hut I do not know the truth of 
the report,«that Mr. Ashton is^comeof a low family. 
It is said he has a sister, who is married to a poor 
good-for-nothing sot. This man has run away a time 
or two and left her. He (Mr. Ashton) has a brother, 
too, who broke his back, while engaged in some 
drunken row. He is now a cripple for life.” 

Indeed ! ” You don’t say so ! ” were some of the 
exclamations of these lovers of scandal. 

“I know he has a crippled brother. I have heard 
him speak of him myself,” replied Mrs. Wilson. I 
did not like to be inquisitive, but now I will find out. 
If I thought Mr. Ashton would encourage such things, 
I would never go to hear him preach again.” 

^^You well know that he is opposed to intemper- 
ance in every form,” remarked Mrs. Holden. I 
never knew any one so decidedly against the evil as he 
is, and I think I have a good chance of knowing, as 
he has been a member of my household for a year. 
Besides, you have all heard him speak of the dread- 
ful sin of intemperance frequently in the pulpit.” 

“I knew he must be opposed^to whiskey, or our 
Willie would have found it out. He is so temperate. 


nOlNOS AND SAYINGS. 


169 


In fact he never tasted whiskey in his life. When he 
was a little child I would not allow him to taste one 
drop of the vile stuff, and ever since he had sense 
enough, he would not let it pass his lips,’’ answered 
Mrs. Wilson. 

Did you never hear Mr. Ashton say how his 
brother was injured?” queried Mrs. Wilson of her 
sister-in-law, Mrs. Holden. 

I heard him say he was thrown from a buggy, but 
he did not say anything about him being intoxicated.” 

‘^Did he not say anything about that to you?” said 
Mrs. Wilson. 

‘^He did not, nor did I consider it any of my busi- 
ness, whether he was intoxicated or not. It is enough 
for me to know that Mr. Ashton is a pure-minded, 
unselfish, noble man. It makes no difference to us 
what his family may be. If he is so unfortunate as to 
have intemperate friends, we should sympathize with 
and not blame him. Our business here is to make 
some arrangements about welcoming our pastor, and 
not try to find fault with him or his friends.” 

So they ‘‘put their heads together,” and by the 
time appointed for the return of the minister and his 
fair young bride, everything was ready for their re- 
ception. The parlor, study and kitchen were fur- 
nished prettily, and the cupboard and cellar were well 


170 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


filled. A table, fit for a king, was set in the nice, cool 
yard. What a pleasant surprise awaited the happy 
couple! All there were charmed with Mr. Ashton’s 
gentle wife. He had wooed and won sweet Evie 
Lee, Milo’s only sister. She was as graceful as petite, 
and her soft blue eyes and rich brown hair were the 
most beautiful in the world, at least in the eyes of her 
husband. Congratulations over. Dr. Roland made a 
short address, tendering them their welcome and 
love, along with ‘^the little surprise the good sisters 
had provided.” In a few words Howard tried to 
speak the thanks that so overflowed his heart. In- 
voking God’s richest blessings on them, one and all, 
they separated, feeling that it was good to dwell to- 
gether in unity. 

After some time spent in making and receiving calls, 
these young people settled down to work in earnest. 
Early in the winter a church festival” was proposed, 
and the Missionary Society was full of plans and pur- 
poses. The proceeds of this festival was to go toward 
the education of a Hindoo girl, the society having un- 
dertaken the obligation. There were Lila and Mary 
Tyndall, Laura Gaston, Louisa Clark (daughter of 
Judge Clark), Mellie Mays, and many others, who took 
an active part. 

I wonder why Dr. Roland takes such an interest 


LOINQS AND SAYINGS. 171 

in that little mwfe, Rachel Sampson. Surely he has no 
intentions that way.” 

Why, Lou Clark ! how you do talk!” said Mary 
Tyndall. “You do not suppose that a fine, eligible 
young doctor like him would fancy a poor little waif, 
such as Rachel. I have heard that he was physician 
for the factories^ and that he attended her through a 
s:^vere spell of illness. Doubtless he feels a ^fatherly 
care' over her.” 

“ I am sure he could not find a sweeter, more intel- 
ligent girl should he look Easton through,” chimed 
Ellen Gilbert (the rich merchant’s only daughter), for 
the “law of kindness” ruled her tongue. 

* “ Why, Ellen, do you even suppose that he would 
stoop to marry her?” questioned Mellie Mays. 

“ I do not think he would stoop, as she is most cer- 
tainly his equal, not only in good looks, but also in 
point of education. You must remember that she 
once had as much of this world’s riches as some of the 
rest of us. That all went, and her poor father fol- 
lowed, leaving Rachel only the legacy of honest pov- 
erty. Is it any disgrace for her to work to assist her 
widowed mother, and help educate her little brother 
and sister?” 

“ Why don’t she teach music, or do something re- 
spectable, then ? ” 


172 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


There are more music- teachers than scholars. 
Kachel took the work nearest her. If she can keep up 
heart and do what she thinks is right, it is none of my 
business at what work she employs her hands. I wish 
her all success, and Dr. Koland, too, if he understands 
her true worth.’’ 

^‘Your market is made, Ellen, so you do not care 
for the rest of us,” sneered Mellie. “There is Lina 
Stewart, too. She walks around as though she was 
proprietress of all she surveyed.” 

“Why, Mellie,” whispered Laura Gaston ; “she will 
hear you. Do not talk so loud.” 

“I don’t care. Perhaps if she hears the. opinion of 
others, she will come down to her proper level.” 

“You know, Mellie, that when we graduated, Lina 
stood above us all. She took the first honor, you 
remember.” 

“ Her bold, independent manners are the result of 
our treating her as an equal. I delight in seeing her 
humbled. How she used to queen it over us! I 
despise her.” 

“ The same disposition causes her now to consider 
our foolish slights beneath her notice. She is smart 
and we cannot deny it. Poverty is no disgrace. Our 
minister says truly, that nothing degrades but sin. 
And if you wish to win Dr. Roland’s golden opinion, 


DOINGS AND SAYINGS. 


173 


you must treat his 'proteges with courtesy, at least, 
replied Ellen. 

‘‘ I am not going to get down on my knees to Dr. 
Roland, or any other person. That little Mrs. Ashton 
goes around shaking hands with everybody. Do look ! 
She is talking to those miserable Hart children now. 
How can she so stoop beneath her station ! ’’ 

The festival was now the general to[)ic. Young 
and old were enthusiastic. All were busy. 

^‘We must have a rmg-cahejhy all means,’’ said 
Hiram Lane, the leading young man of the church. 

What is the subject oP so much interest, that is 
being discussed here?” inc^uired Mrs. Lyte, the ac- 
knowledged manager of the young folks’ part. 

“We were discussin'g lotteries m g<'iieral, and ring- 
cakes in particular,” replied Louisa Tyndall, laughing. 

“ Of course, we must have the ring-cake and the 
grab-hag too. We will have ten prize packages out' 
of every hundred.” 

“And a billiard-table, and card-desk, and — ” 

“Stop, stop, Hiram, you rogue,” said Mrs. Lyte, 
tapping him with her dainty fan, while she shook her 
graceful head. 

“ I am afraid Mr. Ashton will shake his grave head, 
when he hears of this wild scheme of ours,” answered 
Mrs. Mays, joining the party. 


174 


HOWARD ASHTON, 


We need not say anything about it to him/^ re- 
sponded Mrs. Lyte. 

He’ll hear of it, and spoil everything just at the 
last moment. While old Betty Brown is about we can 
keep nothing secret, no matter how much we try.” 

^^Oh, Mellie! it would not be right to try to con- 
ceal this matter, but Mr. Ashton is not a fogy. I 
think we can win his consent to our plan, if we do 
what is right,” said Hiram Lane. You know it is in 
a good cause, and he will see it.” 

‘^Certainly the cause is good,” responded Mrs. 
Mays: but you will see he will oppose it. Doubtless 
he will plead conscientious scruples.” 

“Or fear of offending some of the old brethren. 
Would not Deacon Biggs draw his long face down, 
if he knew we were going to deal in such ^sinful prac- 
tices?’” laughed Mrs. Lyte. ^‘Here comes Mr. Ash- 
'ton now. I am going to make the appeal. The woi'st 
is not as bad as suspense.” 

Don’t mention the grah-hag: first sound him on 
lotteries in general. Say nothing about the cake,” 
whispered Mellie. 

‘^Oh, Mr. Ashton ! we were just talking about you. 
What would be the best prizes to put in the grah-hag f 
jewelry, or — ” 

Howard opened his eyes wide. ^^Prizes — I cer- 


DOINGS AND SAYINGS. 


175 


tainly did not understand. Pardon me, Mrs. Lyte, 
you did not mean to say that you are going to indulge 
in anything of the kind.^^ 

‘‘Why, certainly! Who ever heard of a festival 
without a grab-hag 

“I fail to see the necessity of this particular ‘amuse- 
ment.'” 

“ You know the money will go to a good object, 
Mr. Ashton, and we will take in a good many dollars 
by this same grab-hag , said Hiram Lane, at a wink 
from Mrs. Lyte. 

“Do you think the Lord would accept such a gift? 
We are commanded to bring the first of the flock. 
Surely we could not ask God's blessing on this scheme, 
and could we expect to receive good in exchange for 
known evil?” 

“You will not object to a ring-cake, I am sure. 
Dr. Mays, during his lifetime, left all such things to 
the young people. If he did not approve of some 
trifling amusement, he was too prudent to interfere, 
knowing that others had opinions as well as he. When 
we were in Louisville, we had a grand Fair in our 
church, one winter, and there we had the regular lottery. 
Mr. Mays felt disposed to oppose it, but I convinced 
him that it would make him decidedly unpopular. I 
assured him that it would be no falsehood in him to 


176 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


say, that he had not been consulted, if the old fogies 
should find fault. Rev. Byerly, over at Leesburg, not 
only encouraged these things, but I have seen him 
auctioneering lottery packages, and buying ring-cdlce, 
and eating it, too.” 

^^We will not expect Mr. Ashton to take part with 
us, but only to look on, and permit the rest of us to 
sin,” said Hiram Lane. 

I am opposed to everything bearing any resem- 
blance to lottery, and I would consider myself just as 
guilty as those who engaged in this evil, if I did not 
raise a warning voice against it. I cannot countenance 
anything of the kind.” 

Other ministers do,” whispered Mellie, just loud 
enough for Mr. Ashton to hear. 

My dear Miss Mays, if they see no harm in these 
things, would it be justifiable in me, who feel and 
know these practices to be sinful and injurious, to fold 
my hands and say, I take no part, therefore the sin is 
not mine? ‘To him that knoweth to do good, and 
doeth it not, to him it is sin.’ I hope you wdll think 
differently on the subject,” he continued, as he left 
them to join another group. 

“ The dolt ! ” exclaimed Mellie. “ It is really too bad. 
If he would attend to his sermons, it would do us 
more good.” 


DOINGS AND SAYINGS. 


177 


Never mind, my dear!^' laughed Mrs. Lyte. 
“ We’ll check-mute him yet. These ring-cakes and 
grab-hags are old anyway. Let them go. We will 
get up something new.” 

Oh, yes ! the nasty sour grapes. We would not 
have them.” 

Now, Hiram, be still, you tease. I am planning 
for your benefit, and do not wish to be interrupted.” 

I’m all attention ; pray go on.” 

^‘Sit down, and put your lazy wits to work, and 
help outwit this preacher of ours, who needs to be saved 
from his own foolishness, — suppose we prepare a nice 
lot of tableaux — something that will be popular.” 

‘^Or a first-class masquerade ball. One would be, 
as likely to go through as the other,” replied Hiram. 

“We will try the tableaux first, at any rate.” And 
so it was arranged. 

Everything was ready for the feast. Only a few 
wreaths were needed for cakes, and so forth. Faithful 
Rachel Sampson sat in a quiet corner, finishing one 
of the many wreaths she had made. While others 
planned, she worked. She had been persuaded to take 
part in a drama. Mrs. Lyte selected her to represent 
a certain character, saying there was not another girl 
in town suited so well ; and Mrs. Lyte’s word was law. 
Rachel was busy with her own thoughts, when she 
12 


178 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


was startled by hearing her own name mentioned by a 
bevy of girls near her. 

“Why did you ask that demure Rachel Sampson 
to take part in our drama, Mellie?’^ asked Mary 
Tyndall. 

“ It was not I who asked her. You might know I 
would not stoop quite so low. It was that managing 
Mrs. Lyte. She fancies her Mittle mouse/ as she 
calls Rachel, has very superior taste. She has taken 
quite a notion to her.” 

“ Has she, or is it because Dr. Roland pays court at 
Rachel’s shrine, and he belongs to our seiV* asked 
Mary. 

“ I think you are both wrong, girls,” replied Laura 
Gaston. “She just selected her, because she is such an 
easy, good-natured girl. She knew she would do just 
as she was told. Mrs. Lyte just manages her as she 
would a machine,” 

“Well, it is too provoking to be obliged to mix with 
all classes. I wish I was out of it,” sighed Mary. 

Mellie was beginning to reply, when Rachel stepped 
up, her face burning with shame and indignation, and 
answered for herself. “ Girls, there need be no blushing 
00 my account. I am ashamed to say, J was persuaded 
to take a part in this foolish drama. I now declare 
rny place vacant, and yqu are at liberty tq select pne 


DOINGS AND SAYINGS. 


179 


more worthy, and better qualified to fill it; one who 
can ‘mix with our set,’ without bringing disgrace, by 
her ‘mouse-like’ proclivities.” Bowing coldly she 
turned and left them ; not heeding embarrassed apolo- 
gies and declarations of regret. 

Now arose a tumult about filling this important 
place, as it was the best drama on the list ; Mrs. Lyte 
was called in, and scolded the girls for spoiling her plans. 
“ What’s th» difference whether she is just or 

not, girls, so she performs her part well? When your 
tongues are so busy and your hands idle, your eyes 
should be everywhere, so as to discover, if the object 
of your ridicule is in range of your voices.” 

“I see,” laughed Hiram Lane, who had witnessed 
the whole scene from his desk, “ Mrs. Lyte cares more 
for the effect than the cause.” 

“ Who don’t? It makes no difference what one says 
about me, if I don’t hear it. I am going to see 
Rachel, and try to undo your work,” and off she 
went. But all her smiles and caresses were in vain. 
Rachel’s eyes were opened, and she could see she had 
been duped into playing a part, she now thought en- 
tirely unbecoming and wrong; and she was glad the 
girls had opened a way for her escape. 

Mr. Ashton did not discover that there were tableaux 
and dramas on the programme, until the day before 


180 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


that fixed for the festival. He went to headquarters, 
for he was not long in conjecturing where this thing 
originated. Mrs. Lyte first tried to laugh him out of 
such obsolete notions. When this failed she tried the 
power of her soft, winning voice, in flattery. Not suc- 
ceeding here, she next called in her allies, but all that 
could be said in favor of this pet scheme was answered 
by the faithful pastor. He objected unreservedly to 
performances of this kind in connection^ with church 
work. In fact he was not much in favor of them, 
even in schools, where they properly belonged. He 
felt that If they persisted in these performances, some 
of w’hich were not the purest, he could not consent 
to be present. JMrs. Lyte had to acknowledge herself 
fairly conquered for once. She submitted gracefully, 
as she always did, remarking to the girls when she 
saw their chagrin, Convince a man against his will, 
he^s of the same opinion still.’’ The festival was over 
at last, but not without many little things occurring to 
mar the enjoyment of the occasion. 

Howard was glad when all was over. He hoped 
now to see more interest in the prayer-meetings, Sab- 
bath-school, and in the house of God. All had been 
neglected, during these days of excitement. Now he 
hoped they would all go to work. 


CHAPTER XVir. 


HARVEST OF DEATH. 

“ In times of trouble call on me, and I will answer thee.” 

“ The beautiful is vanished, and returns not.” 

I )RAYER was tlie man’s as it had been the boy’s 
great stronghold. The weary, discouraged pas- 
tor still prayed for everything he needed, or thought 
he needed. Pie now spent much time on his knees, in 
his closet, where no eye but God’s kept watch. Yet 
somehow the heavens seemed brass, and the earth 
iron.” No new life was manifested among his people. 
He knew Harry and Evie were both praying. Why 
not all spend the same day, for particular prayer, for 
God’s blessing on his poor, weak etforts? Pie wrote, 
also, to the “ Fulton-Street Prayer-meeting,” request- 
ing prayer, on the same day as the one set apart by 
himself, wife and brother, and the answer came, as it 
always does, when the petitions are in faith. The 
prayer-meetings began to grow in interest. The 
church was filled to overflowing, and the Sabbath- 

school was belter attended than ever before. One after 

( 181 ) 


182 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


another arose for special prayer, until it seemed a very 
Pentecost. Family prayer-meetings were established, 
where two or three families met every night, for devo- 
tional exercises. Those blessed meetings! How 
sweet their memory ! How many hearts looked to 
those precious hours of prayer, as the happiest spent 
on earth ! These gracious meetings had scarcely closed, 
till another and still more solemn series of gatherings 
called the people to the house of God. So quickly 
does ‘^sorrow follow on the heels of joy.’’ 

That modern scourge, diphtheria, entered the peace- 
ful town, and desolated many hitherto happy homes. 
It prevailed in its most malignant type, defying medi- 
cal skill, and setting at naught all known remedies. 
Scarcely a day passed that the gate of the Cemetery re- 
mained closed. Somebody’s door was craped to-day; 
no one knew where the death-angel would next strike. 
Not only little children were laid to rest, but the youth 
and strong manhood were laid low in the dust. The 
merchant left his desk, and the smith his anvil. The 
student closed his book, and the belle forsook her toi- 
let. All, in their busy rounds — stopped — stood still, 
and then lay down to die ! Death was everywhere ; 

Thou art around us in our peaceful homes, 

And the world calls us forth, and thou art there,” 


HARVEST OF DEATH. 


183 


Howard and Evie were among the constant 
watchers. Kight and day found them by the couch of 
the sick or dying. Many of the new converts of their 
church were almost carried from the altar to the 
grave. What comfort was there in the thought that 
this harvest of death had been preceded by the in- 
gathering of souls into the kingdom ! Sometimes 
whole families of children were laid, side by side, in the 
churchyard. Out of eight children, Mr. lyndall 
buried six. Only Mary and little Jamie were left. 
Hiram Lane was one of the first to cross the river of 
death. He died full of hope of a blessed immortality. 
Mrs. Mays buried her youngest child, Willie, a boy 
of four years. Deacon Biggs lost two bright little girls. 
And Rachel Sampson closed the eyes of her little 
sister, Annie. Prayer-meetings were thinly attended 
now, but those who met were full of the Spirit of 
God. There was a meeting daily, for prayer, in the 
pastor’s study. Prayer for the stay of the pestilence 
for the recovery of the sick — for the preparation of 
those appointed to die — for the healing of the broken- 
hearted. Such prayer comes from the heart, and 
reaches to Heaven. Often the name of some loved 
one would be sent, asking for prayer, that the precious 
life might yet be spared, and how often, God only 
knows, were the dear ones raised up, by a prayer-hear- 


184 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


ing God, ill answer to these petitions. “ Prayer moves 
the arm that moves the world.’^ All the dear ones 
called away were not of the Shepherd’s fold. Some 
would die pleading with friends to save them. One 
young man, an unbeliever, who possessed much of 
this world’s goods, and who had attended the Gos- 
pel-meetings, only to scoff, now died raving, and call- 
ing for time to repent. His last words w'ere those of 
the dying Queen Elizabeih : ^‘Millions of gold for an 
inch of time;” but, alas! it was too late. The dread- 
ful message had gone forth in his case. ‘‘Time was, 
but time siiali be no more” — “I also will laugh at 
your calamity : I will mock when your fear cometh.” 
Never did Howard so tremble in death’s presence as 
when listening to this man’s unavailing cries, when 
his fear came as desolation, and his destruction as a 
whirlwind — when distress and anguish came upon 
him. With what force did the words of the Psalmist 
come to his mind : 

“All unprotected, lo ! I stand, 

No friendly guardian at my hand, 

No place of flight or refuge near, 

And none to whom my soul is dear.” 

What a terrible thing to stand unprotected, and 
death knocking at the door! What was wealth, posi- 


HARVEST OF DEATH. 


186 


tioD, love of friends, or all combined, when the soul 
was out of Jesus, and all earthly grandeur was passing 
away forever! ‘‘Only Jesus can make a dying bed 
seem soft as downy pillows are.” How comforting in 
times of trouble, to know that Jesus is at the helm ! 
He has said, “Hitherto shalt thou come, but no fur- 
ther: and here shall thy proud waves be stayed.” 
“ Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor 
for the arrow that flieth by day; nor for the pestilence 
that walketh in darkness ; nor for the destruction that 
wasteth at noon-day.” 

The death-angel had reaped his harvest, and the 
town once more resumed its daily duty. Oh ! what 
a void in many hearts! Here, an infant voice was 
hushed — there, all the household pets were swept away. 
Yonder, the young man was stricken down in his 
strength; and here, lies the young maiden in her 
beauty. Plow the heart wells up with untold sorrows, 
and the eyes fill with unshed tears, when we feel that 
we shall see their faces no more! Nevermore will they 
greet us with their loving voices. They are gone, to 
return no more. The world moves on, just as though 
we had not buried our dead out of our sight. J ust so it 
Avill be when we are gone. But is this all, and naught 
beyond on earth? Ah, no! Thy brother, thy sister, 
shall rise again. 


186 


HOWARD ASIITOJ^. 


\ 

’Tis this that makes our darkness day, 

’Tis this that makes our eartli a heaven.” 

What su[){)ort would beicaved friends have, were 
they denied tlie consolations of the gos[)el? How vain, 
and worse than vain, are all the comforts earth can be- 
stow in the dark hour, wlien we first begin to realize 
that we shall hear the loving voice no more! Infi- 
delity disappears as mist before the morning sun, 
when death comes knocking at the door. No matter 
of what faith we boast, while in health — when the 
dying hour draws near, we want the Christian’s faith, 
— the Christian’s hope, — the Christian’s God. 

“The air is full of farewells to the dying, 

And mournings for the dead ; 

The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, 

Will not be comforted ! 

“ Let us be patient ! These severe afflictions 
Not from the ground arise, 

But oftentimes celestial benedictions 
Assume this dark disguise. 

“ We see but dimly, through the mists and vapors ; 

Amid these earthly damps. 

What seem to us but sad funereal tapers 
May be heaven’s distant lamps.” 


CHAPTER XVIIL 


HEART FAINTS AND FAILS. 

“At evening time it shall be light.” 

A NOTHER year has come and gone, leaving many 
varancies, filling many gaps. A bright, 
dark-eyed boy is now a resident of the parsonage. 
Of course he is a paragon of excellence, notwithstand- 
ing he eats, cries and sleeps just like other babies. 
Little I^enneth is supposed to know his own name 
already, and the whole congregation claims him. He 
has enough stockings to supply a whole family of 
babies; for all the maiden ladies must, of necessity, 
make a present, and what is more useful, or less ex- 
pensive, than a pair of good, warm socks? There are 
enough tin rattles and whistles to start a tin shop, 
beside many other presents too numerous to mention. 

Ralph this winter has been doing worse than ever 
before. Goldie, or little seven-year-old Willie, has 
been compelled often to seek him, late at night, and 
they always found him in his old haunt, at the dilapi- 
dated tavern, which, in truth, was nothing more than 

( 187 ) 


188 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


one of the vilest grog-shops, where men and boys were 
schooled for the Penitentiary, All the pleadings of 
friends were lost on poor, fallen Ralph. But we will 
not dwell on these sickening recitals. Let us hasten on 
to the closing scene of this drama. A year or two more 
of dissipation and sorrow are added to the past. Ralph 
has been away again, on an aimless ramble. No cause 
known for this desertion of his family, except the love 
of whiskey. For three long, weary months, the faith- 
ful wife has watched in vain for tidings of the husband, 
who once was her pride, her strong rock. She never 
had forgiven herself for the course she had pursued in 
the early months of her married life. She greatly re- 
gretted, that at her bridal feast, she had insisted on 
placing wine on the board. But for that, Ralph might 
have been saved. 

She still had strong faith and hope that he would 
yet be rescued from a drunkard’s grave. She prayed 
that repentance might come, if it came oidy over her 
coffin. Even her life she was ready to sacrifice, for 
this faithless husband, who had brought her nothing 
but sorrow. Her constant prayer was, “ Lord, save 
him at any cost ! ” He returned one night unan- 
nounced: but she was not sur[)rised. She was looking 
for him. She received him gladly and tenderly ; lis- 
tened to his promises of living a new life. 


heaht faints and fails. 


189 


^'Ralpli/^ she replied, I firmly believe God will 
rescue you, even though he tarries long. Though this 
poor body lies mouldering in the grave, God will an- 
swer my prayers, and we will meet in heaven.” 

^^Do not talk of dying, Goldie. You must live 
long, to enjoy this new-found peace. I will keep my 
pledge, and will try to make up for all the pain I have 
caused you.” 

I shall not be long with you, Ralph. I feel that 
my days are numbered ; but, from heaven, I will look 
down and rejoice to know that you are free.” 

Not so, Goldie ! You must not die. You must 
live, to assist me in my new life. I have cheated you 
out of all your best years. For ten long years I have 
kept you toiling and weeping, when you should have 
been living in happiness and comfort. You have en- 
dured all without murmuring. I wonder you did 
not sink beneath your heavy burden years ago. You 
have clung faithfully to me, through all my wander- 
ings, and, now that I am determined to forsake my 
evil course, looking to God for help, you must not 
leave me.” 

^‘Do not flatter yourself, Ralph. I know I am 
dying. I have known it for months; but now that you 
are home, ^clothed, and in your right mind,’ this sor- 
row along with the sting of death is taken away. I am 


190 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


not afraid to die. I am sure Jesus will not forsake 
me, wlien the last trying hour comes. In that happy 
land I will again embrace my darling angel May. 
My little sister and brother, too, are there. You too 
must come. Heaven, it seems to me now, would not 
be heaven without you. I will wait and watch for 
you. You must lead our little ones heavenward. 
This is rny great charge. May we be an unbroken 
family in heaven — not one missing.” 

Ralph flattered himself that Goldie was improving. 
Her cough was no better, to be sure, but she was so 
cheerful. He did not know that his presence made the 
change. But, when a few weeks more had passed, and 
Ralph beheld his fair wife, with her dead babe on her 
breast, both fast asleep, never to awake again, he knew 
he had been building on a false foundation. We will 
pass over the anguish of these terrible days, when the 
heart-broken man could only utter words of deep re- 
morse, for the wreck he had made. Oh ! what now 
would he not give to be able to recall the last ten years 
of wretchedness ! but, alas ! it is now too late — too 
late! Tears cannot wash away their memory; nor can 
vain regrets make any reparation I 

Goldie was laid to rest, l)y the side of her first-born, 
old in sorrow, young in years. Her parents, brothers 
and sisters, as they shed the last tears over the coffin of 


HEART FAINTS- AND FAILS. 


191 


this one, so dear, could say in very truth, ^‘The Lord 
hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord/’ 
We would not have her back. She has borne so 
much, suffered so much, we are glad to see her at rest, 
“safe in the arms of Jesus.” Just ten years had 
elapsed, since Goldie went out from her father’s 
house, a happy bride. To-day, she is carried to the 
tomb, a heart-broken wife. Ten years ago, she had a 
kind husband, wealth, and everything to make home 
happy. To-day, she is borne from a poor tenant- 
house. Rum robbed her of all life holds dear, and now 
of life itself. Sleep on, and take thy rest, sweet one ! 
Nevermore will thy heart bleed and ache, for the 
wrongs done by the hand that should have protected 
thee! Gone are all thy troubles, pain and tears. 
“Old things have passed away! behold, all things 
have become new ! ” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


SEEDS BY THE WAYSIDE. 

“In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not 
thy hand ; for thou knowest not wliether shall prosper, either this 
or that, or whether they both shall be alike good.” 

T have come to tender you my thanks for your 
sermon of yesterday. It did me so much good.’^ 
Howard stopped his monotonous walk up and down 
liis study, and turned to encounter the earnest gaze of 
Cyrus Lane, whose brother Hiram we have mentioned 
during his life and at his death. Cyrus had strayed 
from the heavenly fold. For years he had not entered 
the house of God, except as a self-constituted critic. 
He was a profound scholar, but the deeper he dived 
into mystic lore, the further he receded from the God 
in whose hands are the issues of life and death. The 
death of his only brother was to him a heavy blow. 
Since the trying event he had been, if possible, more 
unapproachable than ever. It had been the prayer of 
the young minister that this great afiliction might be 

the means of leading this talented young man back to 
( 192 ) 


SEEDS BY THE WAYSIDE. 


193 


the God he had forsaken ; but so fenced in did he seem, 
that even Howard, ever so hopeful, did not really ex- 
pect this [>etition to be answered. Did this servant of 
the Most High, who had so often sought help in times 
of trouble, . nor ever sought without receiving aid, 
limit the power of that great God, who never said, 
“ Seek ye my face in vain ? ” He felt yesterday^s ser- 
mon had been a failure. The calls upon his time 
during the week had been many and urgent, and he had 
been obliged to toil and pray far into Saturday night, 
bringing a nervous headache into the pulpit Sabbath 
morning; consequently he was irritable, uncharitable 
— magnifying petty grievances. The sight of Cyrus 
Lane, sitting so attentive in the farthest corner of the 
church, annoyed him very much. He came to criti- 
cise and ridicule my poor efforts,’^ he said to himself. 
So he floundered through the morning service some- 
how, and came home very much discouraged. Evie 
gently remonstrated with liim for his lack of faith, 
reminding him that he was only to plant; that it was 
God who gave the increase. He replied, I wish no 
increase from such seed as I have been sowing to-day. 
My sermon this morning was uncharitable, unchristian ; 
if not in words at least in thoughts.’’ 

This, then, was blue Monday. So busy was he with 
self-upbraidings, that he did not hear the gentle tap at 
13 


194 


HOWARD ASHTON, 


liis study-door. The words coming from the lips of 
the very man of whom he had been harboring such 
ungenerous feelings amazed him. The earnest look 
and trembling voice told plainly he had not come to 
mock. Grasping the hand of his visitor, Howard 
motioned him to a seat. 

You did not expect a visit from me, who have so 
purposely avoided all your loving efforts. Doubtless 
you thought I was steeling my heart against the sad 
dispensations of Providence that have visited us so 
recently. During my sainted brother’s beautiful 
Christian life, we had many discussions ; he main- 
taining the satisfying and all-sufficient nature of the 
Christian religion ; I rid idling and condeming every 
faith I could not fully understand. But when sick- 
ness came; when death hovered over our hitherto un- 
broken home, then it was I felt like Ethan Allen. ‘ I 
would not have him die in my faith, but that of our 
mother.’ When this dear brother, for whom the 
world promised so much, gave all up without a mur- 
mur, cheerfully submitting everything to the will of 
God, I was forced to acknowledge that there was a 
reality in Christianity. I could not doubt that my 
own dear brother was sincere in his protestations when 
dying. I said to myself either the Bible is true, and 
Christians are all right, and I am all wrong, or else 


SEEDS BY THE WAYSTDE. 


195 


they are wofully deceived ; and if they are deceived, 
is not this perfect peace, this holy dying, worth more 
than all my fine theories? If, at the last, there is 
only annihilation, why not rest in this peaceful belief? 
Why not take all the comfort religion can give during 
this short, fitful life? I asked myself. If Hiram’s 
faith was the true faith, what blissful enjoyment 
awaited him in his heavenly abode ! How trans- 
cendently happy the glorified spirit that has escaped 
from its prison-house of pain ! How magnificent 
must be that place where ‘eye hath not seen, nor 
ear heard, nor heart felt’ anything of its beauty or 
grandeur! On the other hand, if his belief was only 
a myth, as I affirm, what could he lose ? If when the 
life went out of the clay tabernacle, it went down as 
the spirit of a beast, what harm could all these bright 
expectations accomplish? They cheered him in life 
and upheld him in death ; they gave him joy and com- 
fort while living, and peace and hope when dying; 
they could do no more than sink with him into 
oblivion.” 

“Did you have any conversation on this subject 
during his sickness?” asked Howard. 

“ He tried to talk to me on different occasions, but 
I would not permit him, as I persuaded myself that 
he would soon be better, and I told him we would talk 


196 HOWARD ASHTON, 

\ 

when it was not such a task for him. Toward the 
last his sufferings were so great he could not converse 
much ; but at his earnest request I promised to read 
the Bible through as carefully, and with as much at- 
tention, as I gave science and philosophy. His dying 
prayer, for God’s blessings on my Scripture reading, 
has been answered. Since that morning, when we 
laid him to rest in the quiet church yard, I have been 
treading my weary pilgrimage alone. Too proud to 
accept your assistance when tendered, I have been 
ashamed to ask your counsel while struggling among 
the breakers.” 

Why did you not come and open your heart to 
your pastor at once? How unmindful I have been of 
my duty ! ” 

‘Ht was I,” replied the young man; I who 
stopped my ears to your words of warning; I who 
chose to stumble along over rough places, when I was 
fully aware you would have been most willing to lend 
me a helping hand. I went to church yesterday, al- 
most ready to despair. God certainly directed you in 
the selection of your text, ^ The blood of Jesus Christ 
his Son cleanseth us from all sin.’ Plundreds of times 
before had I heard the verse handled, but never did it 
come to me with such’ meaning. Such love ! such pity ! 
such tender pity ! I listened for eternity, and came 


SEEDS BY THE WAYSIDE, 197 

away satisfied. Like water to the thirsty, or bread to 
the hungry, those precious words came to my waiting 
soul. They answered every purpose, filled every de- 
sire, gave joy for sorrow and light for darkness.” 

‘‘And I in my weakness felt I had never made such 
a failure. I was not well prepared, and I felt you 
had come to ridicule and criticise illogical reasoning.” 

I drank in every word, and carried away with me 
a heart so overflowing with happiness, that had hun- 
dreds of errors occurred, I would not have observed 
them.” 

I said this very morning I wanted no harvest from 
such seed as I had sown yesterday. Surely God saves 
by the foolishness of preaching. I will never again 
be discouraged while I try to follow where God 
leads.” 

It does seem strange, surpassing strange, when I 
look back over the last eight or ten years of my life, 
that I should have forgotten my father’s God, and 
drifted so far out on the tossing, treacherous billows 
of infidelity. While I admired the glorious orb of day, 
sailing majestically through the heavens, warming our 
earth to new life and beauty ! while I gazed entranced 
at the starry host, whose countless millions nighUy 
bestud the sky! while I beheld in awe the sublimity 
of the lightning’s forked tongue, and listened in terror 


198 


HOWARD ASHTON, 


to the thunder’s dreadful peal, I had the presumption 
to boldly deny their Author. How I could, even for 
a moment, think there was no God of nature, and yet 
watch the opening bud, the expanding leaf, the bab- 
bling brook, the tiny rain-drop, with so much pleasure, 
1 cannot understand.” 

^^Tliere is no way of accounting for our unbelief, 
except by our corrupt natures. How any man, read 
in science and philosophy, can boldly deny the exist- 
ence of a Deity and yet love and admire the beauty 
and adaptation of his works, is the greatest mystery 
I have ever tried to solve.” 

“All things being are in mystery ; we expound mysteries by mys- 
teries ; 

And yet the secret of them all is one in simple grandeur. 

All intricate, yet each path plain, to those who know the way ; 

All unapproachable, yet easy of access, to them that hold the key; 
We walk among labyrinths of wonder, but thread the mazes with 
a clue, 

We sail in chartless seas, but behold ! the pole-star is above us. 

For counting down from God’s good-will, thou meltest every riddle 
into him.” 

There is so much wisdom displayed even in the 
most minute of God’s works, — so much that the finite 
mind cannot comprehend, — yet man accepts all these 
as they are, but because he cannot understand a Triune 
God, leaves him out entirely.” 


SEEDS BY THE WAYSIDE. 199 

“The captious and cautious unbeliever is of all men weakest to 
believe ; 

Cut from the anchorage of God, his bark is a plaything of the 
billows : 

The compass of his principle is broken, the rudder of his faith un- 
shipped, 

Chance and Fate govern all for him.” 


“But how came you, my friend, to drift into the un- 
believer’s current? You, who had a Christian home 

— a Christian education ? ” 

“ My first step in the wrong path was taken soon 
after I entered tlie firm of Aber & Wilson. Aber 
was a striet church-member. Wilson went to the 
house of God only on rare occasions, and although lie 
was an upright man in all his dealings, he had no 
faith in ChVistianity. He often said the Bible was a 
good code of morals, but that Christians, as a class, 
were not as honorable as men of the world. He 
was always drawing comparisons between the two 
classes. He laughed at his partner, saying, 'He 
prayed on his knees the first day of the week, and he 
preyed on his neighbors the other six days.’ Of the 
two men, all knew Wilson to be the most upright and 
trustworthy. Indeed, he was a model man, so far as 
morality went. This led me to draw unfavorable 
comparisons. I was on the alert, watching my cns- 


200 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


tomers sharply. Any deviation from the right path, 
in a professor of religion, was noted at once, and every 
mark of honorable dealing, in a non-professor, was at 
once attributed to this cause. I soon lost all faith in 
religion, although I contended earnestly for a pure, 
moral life, such as the Bible alone directs. My 
mother was sorely grieved over my treachery to my- 
self, my family and ray God. She pointed me to the 
perfect pattern, in. ‘ Whose mouth there is no guile,’ 
but I had started down hill and nothing human could 
stop my downward course. I turned from words of 
love and entreaty, scoffed at God’s messages sent by 
his servants, turned a deaf ear to the warnings of a 
merciful Providence. Nothing, nothing would do to 
stop me in my mad career but the fiery fui:nace of af- 
fliction. The precious blood of the Lamb of God I 
counted unworthy, until my own dear brother’s life was 
paid a ransom for the opening of my sin-sealed eyes.” 

When we will not heed God’s teachings, nor stop 
to consider his dealings with us, in mercy he sends 
sorer trials. His darkest providences are often bless- 
ings in disguise, but we see not the silvery lining of 
the dark cloud. Self must be emptied out of our 
hearts to make room for the King in his glory. He 
must have the first place in our affections, or none. 
‘Ye cannot serve God and mammon.’ ‘Son, give me 
thy heart.’ ” 


SEEDS BY THE WAYSIDE. 


201 


But that my brother should have died untimely, 
for my sake, — died — when the world was so fair and 
lovely, and he counted on doing so much in the Mas- 
ter’s vineyard, causes my heart many a bitter throb of 
remorse.” 

Say not he died untimely. There are no untimely 
deaths. The little babe that just opens its eyes on 
earth, and then closes them forever, accomplishes the 
mission it was sent to perform. God takes no one out 
of the world, while his work remains unfinished. 
Your brother, with a heart overflowing with love to 
his God, hoped and planned to do him much service ; 
these were his thoughts, — not God’s. The work de- 
signed him by the all-wise Father was not left undone. 
His life ended, your salvation secured, — the work 
goes on, not even terminating when the grave closed 
over his lifeless form. Say not his death was 'un- 
timely ’ if a soul was rescued thereby. Many a de- 
voted disciple spends a whole lifetime serving the 
Master; and does not bring a single soul home to 
glory. The immortal soul ! Its price cannot be es- 
timated! Worlds cannot buy it! The ceaseless ages 
of eternity could not compute its value ! It now 
devolves on you — awakened by your brother’s death — 
to take up his work, where he laid it down, and make it 
yours. Cease repining at the workings of the Eternal, 


202 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


bow submissively under his chastening hand, feeling 
it is thy Father who wills it thus.” 

‘^God willing, I will not be an idler in the vine- 
yard of my Lord; yet I am sure I will fall far short 
of filling the place of the devoted brother we lament.” 

^^Go forward in God’s strength. He asks no one to 
go alone. He will roll away the stone, and divide the 
waters of the sea, — follow where he leads. You will 
not be without a chart to direct you, while you have 
the open Bible in your hands. Its promises have an- 
ticipated all our wants, and they are high and deep 
and broad enough to take all our varied lives under- 
neath their spreading wings. Oh ! these matchless 
promises ! How precious ! How all-satisfying ! How 
abundant ! Every possible vicissitude of life and 
death has its own peculiar promise. Are we thirsty, 
we are invited to come and drink. Are we hungry, 
he says, ^ Eat, oh, friends.’ Are we in poverty, there 
is an invitation to ‘Come and buy without money 
and without price.’ In weakness, ‘He is our 
strength,’ in trouble ‘He is our deliverer,’ in need 
of sympathy, ‘ He pitieth us as a Father.’ When we 
are weary and dissatisfied with the world, he invites 
us to ‘Come unto him and rest.’ In pestilence and 
destruction, thougli ‘A thousand fall at our side, and 
ten thousand at our right hand,’ we have the assur- 


SEEDS BY THE WAYSIDE. 203 

ance ' they shall not come nigh us/ Does temptation 
assail us, his own promise stands good, ‘That we 
shall not be tempted above that we are able to bear,’ 
for ‘with tlie temptation he will also make a way of 
escape/ Trust him, trust him fully at all times and 
under every circumstance, for he who has promised is 
able to fulfill— in him they are all yea and amen/’ 

“ I came to thank you for the good I received from 
your words yesterday, I came rejoicing in my new- 
found happiness. So full was I of this blessed, rest- 
ful peace, that I fear I had not a thought of the great 
responsibility resting on me as steward of the Lord. 
I go thanking you more than words can tell, for your 
sympathy and plain directions for my pilgrim-journey. 
With the sacred book for my compass I hope to sail 
heavenward, and, if God so wills it, not alone. Yet 
the thought that I cannot undo the evil I have ac- 
complished, that I cannot give back the pure faith to 
those I have led astray, holds me back with a vice- 
like grip.” 

You must break away from this delusion, that will 
drag you down, without freeing your victims. ‘ For- 
getting the things that are behind,’ work, be instant 
in season and out of season. This is the way. Show 
to the world and your followers that you have come 
out of darkness, into Christ’s marvelous light, and are 


204 


HOWARD ASHTON. 


in earnest. Teach them by example as well as pre- 
cept, that you are not ashamed to own your Lord. Do 
not for a moment sit down with folded hands, and 
weep over a past, that is beyond recall, but go to work, 
and whatever you find to do, do it. You have your 
work to accomplish, — a work no other hands can per- 
form. God placed you just where you are, and expects 
you to use all the influence at your command for his 
glory. 

“ ‘ Thou earnest not to thy place by accident : 

It is the very place God meant for thee.’ ” 


CHAPTER XX. 


THE END. 

“ Every drunkard has his victim, 

Father, mother, wife or child : 

Making desolate and barren. 

Once where peace and plenty smiled.” 

R .\LPH determined to begin life anew. Too 
often had he failed, trusting in his own strength. 
Now his heart, softened by bereavement, sought and 
found help from a Higher Power. He took up this new 
life for the sake of his little ones. No looking back 

could restore the dead. Vain regrets were useless. His 

life hitherto had been a failure— not because he had 
no chart or compass by which to sail, but because he 
heeded not the guiding star, that always pointed 
heavenward. 

Now, when his household god was shivered, his 

tearful eyes sought only heaven. “Ah! the house 

‘built upon the sand’ may do for sunny weather ; 

but when the storm-king is abroad in bis wrath, “we 

need the ‘Rock of Ages.’” Clinging to the Only 

One, who could succor, in such a helpless state, Ralph 

( 20 -)) 


206 


HOWABD ASHTON. 


lifted the burden laid down by Goldie. Taking his 
little ones by the hand, he invoked the assistance of 
her God, in keeping the charge she had committed to 
him. 

Little Birdie, the tender babe of two years, watched 
in vain for mamma; then drooped, faded and died. 
Earth was too cold for her, without the mother-love, 
to shield her in her warm breast. Only Willie and 
Helen now claimed his care. The rest all safe in 
the land where ‘^storms do never come.” 

Home, to his boyhood^s haunts, the weary man takes 
all that is left him. How welcome are these dear 
little ones ! — aye, and the father too, to the home and 
hearts of the lonely grandparents. ‘^If our boy will 
do right noWy all the past will be forgiven, and for- 
gotten,” said they. Let us hope that this reformation 
will be lasting, that Goldie’s prayers have been an- 
swered, and that her coffin has accomplished the mis- 
sion she desired it should. We trust Ralph is safe, 
but oh! what a price was paid for his redemption! 
When will this evil — this great evil of intemperance — 
be blotted out from our land, and from all lands ? 

Harry, who had so long been a sufferer, on its ac- 
count, too, has ended his short life. His battles are 
fought, — his victory is won. He died, as he had lived, 
— trusting only in his dear Saviour. None but 


THE END. 207 

Jesus, — none but Jesus, were his last words, as he 
went up higher. 

Howard is still working and praying — doing what 
his hands and heart find to do. 

We will leave him and his friends for the present. 
Perhaps, in the future, we may take up this life, so 
suddenly dropped, and learn something of the working 
and self-denial of a Minister’s daily life. 


THE END. 







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